


Paternal Instincts

by walviemort



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-07 11:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14670105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walviemort/pseuds/walviemort
Summary: Emma's fear of pregnancy leads Killian to find—and use—a spell that allows him to carry their child instead. A canon-divergent CS pregnancy fic, just with the roles flipped a bit. (Rated T for implied sexy times)





	1. (Im)Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1: Belle tells Killian about a spell that would make his and Emma's dreams of having a baby come true—but can he sway Emma?

On his days off from the station, Killian was always happy to help Belle around the library, even if it just meant keeping Gideon occupied while Belle got work done around the building. He’d developed a special bond with the lad over the past year and a half of calm, and the boy’s shouts of “Unc’l Killy!” never ceased to make his heart skip a beat. He was forever grateful to Belle for allowing him to have this relationship with her son, but...he longed for one of his own.

He knew Emma did, too; they’d talked about it more than once. However, it was the thought of pregnancy that stopped her, and he completely understood her concerns after what she went through carrying Henry. And he knew there were other ways of acquiring a child, but the nature of Storybrooke had a way of prohibiting them. 

By no means were they unhappy, and Henry was certainly enough for them; but there was more than enough love between them that they wanted to share it. If only they could figure out how.

“Unc’l Killy, no stop!” Killian jumped as Gideon slapped the picture book he was holding; he hadn’t realized he’d trailed off, lost in thought. There was something that just felt so right about having a little human in his lap that made his mind wander.

“Apologies, my boy,” he answered, and continued telling the tale before them—and a few others—until Gideon fell asleep, and he was content to stay there as the boy napped, watching his tiny parted lips and long lashes that lie on his cheeks while he slumbered.

He hardly noticed when Belle came by, with mugs of tea for both of them, and sat in the plush chair adjacent to Killian’s. She smiled gently at the boys next to her. “You seem awfully comfortable there.”

Killian blushed as he carefully picked up his mug, cautious not to spill on the babe in his lap. “It’s hard not to be,” he replied bashfully. “Your lad is just so sweet.”

“I know. Any changes on that front with you?” He’d confessed his feelings about the situation before to Belle; it wasn’t anything he hadn’t told Emma already, but it was nice to have someone else to talk to about it.

“Afraid not. It honestly seems like a dead end at this point.” He chuckled humorlessly, “Hell, I’d carry a child myself if that were an option.”

Belle perked at his comment, but then she shook her head, as if having an internal debate. He could tell that she was withholding something.

“Belle, what do you know?” he enquired slowly, curious at her reaction.

She started, a bit sheepishly, “Um, well, there might be...I mean, I might know where to find a spell that allows for just that.”

“Seriously?” His heart raced at the idea—though he wasn’t sure if it was in excitement, fear, or both.

“I came across it a while back when I was doing some research to...well, to keep myself and Gideon safe, before he was born. I can’t remember the details, but I can show it to you, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very, very much, love.”

She gave him a small smile. “Alright then. Meet me at Granny’s for breakfast and I’ll bring what I’ve got.”

It was all he could do to keep his elation at the idea from Emma that night; he didn’t want to get her hopes up if it turned out to be for nought. But he definitely reminded her how much he loved her, child or no.

* * *

The next morning, Regina arrived at Granny’s at the same time he did. “Your Majesty,” he greeted as he held the door open for her. She scoffed, as always, but he still noticed the slight blush on her cheeks. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe the odd friendship the two former villains had settled into, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

He followed her inside, and had just started scanning the room when Belle called him—and Regina, to his surprise—to the booth she’d claimed, where she was waving at them with an ancient-looking book in front of her.

“Is that it?” he asked, trying to mask the hope in his voice as he took a seat across from Belle. She nodded excitedly.

“What’s this little pow-wow all about, then?” Regina asked as she slid into the booth next to Killian.

“First off, can you put some sort of silencing spell around us? I’m not sure we want this overheard just yet,” Belle began. Regina nodded and waved her hand; suddenly, the din of the diner was gone and their words were only for each other. “Alright, Killian and I were chatting yesterday, and I remembered that this spell existed. I wanted to have you take a look at it before we go any further on it.”

Carefully, Belle opened the tome to a marked page, and turned and slid it across to Regina. Killian watched in anticipation as Regina’s eyes scanned the page, only going slightly wide when she realized what she was reading. He braced himself for a snide comment, but none came.

She turned to him, though, with a soft look on her face. “You really want to do this, Killian?”

“Aye,” he said solemnly. “How difficult is it?”

Regina gave him a small, wistful smile, before she explained. “Not very, but it does have to be done right. Here, take a look.” She passed the book to him, and he read the Elvish script as she described it. “This is going to sound a bit clinical, but basically, it would transfer the necessary organs over at the necessary time, starting at the time of conception and right up until the baby was born. Emma would have to cast it, but I assume you planned on talking to her first.”

“Of course.” He noticed in his own translation that the transfer didn’t happen all at once: some parts didn’t switch over until it was time to give birth, and some didn’t at all—nursing would still be Emma’s job. But thankfully, the spell would last indefinitely, if they didn’t conceive on their first try; however, it couldn’t be reversed. “Is there anything we’d need to procure?”

Regina skimmed the list of ingredients. “No, I have everything; and anything I don’t would come from the two of you. If you really want to do this, we can.” Killian’s vision suddenly got blurry; this could actually happen! He looked up at the feeling of pressure on his hand where it rested on the table; Belle was squeezing it in support and grinning, and he couldn’t help but return it. “But,” Regina started in a warning tone. “I won’t do anything until Emma comes to me with this. And think about it, Hook—pregnancy isn’t a walk in the park.”

“I know.” But he also knew it’d be worth it.

“And he’ll have all the support in the world,” Belle added.

“Just wait until the grandparents find out,” Regina continued, joking, but they all knew that Snow would lose her mind. “Think it over and let me know what you two decide, okay? I have to get to the office. I’ll see you later.” The sound of the diner rushed back in and Regina gracefully stood up and slipped out of the diner, leaving Killian and Belle alone with the revelation.

Belle squeezed his hand again. “Hey, talk to me.”

Honestly, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. It was definitely going to be a leap of faith, and he wasn’t sure how hard it would be to sway Emma, but he felt incredibly optimistic. All he could manage to reply, in a watery voice, was, “I can have a child.”

* * *

He spent the rest of the day taking care of the Jolly Roger, and it was impossible not to imagine a toddler running around the ship with Emma’s fair hair and his blue eyes. Or the reverse. More than once, he caught himself staring into space at the idea. 

When he was done, he rushed home to get dinner ready, preparing Emma’s favorite foods in a subtle attempt to charm her to the idea, even though he was ever hopeful she’d be on board.

“What’s this?” she asked as she came in the kitchen that night, wrapping her arms around him from behind while he flipped a grilled cheese on the stove. “Are you trying to butter me up to something?”

Not as subtle as he thought, then. “Am I not allowed to make my wife’s favorite dinner just because?”

“Just because what?” she asked, playfully.

He moved the finished sandwich onto a plate on the counter and turned in her embrace. “Just because he loves her to the ends of the earth and beyond.”

“Mm, okay,” she conceded, laughter playing in her green eyes, and rose to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. “But I can still tell you’re up to something,” she added when she pulled back. “What is it? Is everything okay?” Worry slipped into her tone.

“Aye, love; everything is fantastic. Take a seat and I’ll tell you about it.”

She gave him a curious look, but then did as he said. She snorted as she pulled out her chair, and then joked, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were telling me you were pregnant.”

He paused, facing away from her as he picked up the dinner plates—did she know? Nerves suddenly filled his stomach, but he swallowed them down as he returned to her. After setting the dishes on the table, he took his own seat and started. “No, but...it is about that.”

The amused look on her face quickly fell. “Killian, we’ve talked about this—”

“I know, love, and I understand why you don’t want to go through that. I’m not asking you to; I never would. But,” he began to explain, having to swallow again. “What if I told you there was another way to have a child—our child—without you carrying it?”

She tilted her head in confusion. “What, like a surrogate?”

“Aye, I supposed that’s what it would be.”

“Who, though? Did you want to ask my mom, or Regina, or—”

“Me.”

Emma’s mouth hung open for a moment, but then she closed it, furrowing her brow and shaking her head. “I’m sorry, did you just say...you?”

“I did.”

“But...how?”

He shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “Magic.”

“There’s seriously a spell that lets a man carry a child?”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually that surprised, love.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be,” she conceded. “But...seriously, Killian? There’s a reason I don’t want to put myself through that again, and it’s not just the psychological stuff. It kind of sucks.”

“So I’ve heard.” He was shocked at how calm he was, but Emma’s reaction wasn’t far from what he expected; he knew there would be some level of incredulity, as well as concern for him. But she hadn’t shot it down yet.

Emma chewed her lip in thought. “How would it work? What would we have to do?”

He bit back a grin at that; knowing Emma, that meant she was practically on board. “I can explain all the particulars after dinner; now, eat before your meal goes cold, and tell me about your day.”

She snorted. “Well, you certainly sound like a mom.”  They carried on easily with the meal, even though the weight of the looming conversation hung over them, and Emma quickly cleaned and then joined him in the sitting room, where he was waiting for her on the sofa.

“So,” she started.

“So.”

“Tell me what you found.”

He cleared his throat, opened the ancient spellbook sitting on the coffee table, and explained the whole thing as best he could, using the rudimentary anatomical drawing on the page for help. She asked many of the same questions he had that morning, and seemed satisfied with the answers. 

“Okay, let me make sure I have this right, and forgive my use of scientific terms: so basically, we cast this spell, I drink the potion, and whenever we conceive a child, my uterus will transfer over to you?”

“Yes.”

“But not my vagina?”

“Not until labor starts.”

“And not my boobs.”

“That’s not a clinical term, but no, not ever.”

“What about after birth? It takes a bit for that stuff to go back to normal.”

“Um...the translation comes to, ‘everything will return to its owner when it has returned to its earlier state.’ So I suppose that will take some time.”

“Okay.” She stared at the book a bit more, a pensive look on her face. He wanted to ask what she was thinking, but then she spoke up. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? You’ve seen first-hand that it’s not easy, and there can always be complications. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she admitted in a small voice.

He took her hand in his and used his hook to nudge her face up, bringing their eyes level. There was trepidation in hers, but he could see the excitement lingering behind that. “Swan, our life together, right now, is happier than I ever thought I’d get. And if I can do this to add to that happiness, I’m more than willing to go through whatever it will take to let our love and family grow.”

The concern on Emma’s face had softened a bit, giving way to a tiny smile. “How do you always know the right thing to say?” she wondered, lightly teasing.

“Is that a yes?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it is. If you’re sure, I’m sure. Let’s do this.”

He had no words that would serve to describe his elation at her agreeing; he was almost laughing in glee and his grin hurt his cheeks. All he could do was pull her tight and place a searing kiss on her lips. “Thank you, love,” he finally managed to utter as he held her close.

She leaned back a bit and glanced up at him through her lashes seductively. “Well, now that that’s settled, why don’t we go get some practice at making that baby?”

He immediately felt arousal build within. “Lead the way, darling.”


	2. Let's Make A Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spell is cast—but how long will they have to wait to find out if it worked?

“Ugh, I’m supposed to drink that?” Emma’s nose crinkled in disgust as she sniffed the potion brewing in Regina’s vault. “That smells terrible and looks worse.”

A few days after making the decision to give male pregnancy a go, they got together with Regina to get started on the spell. Truly, the number of foreign objects it required did make Killian give it a sidelong glance, and the egg it contained smelled as though it was long past its prime. But they trusted Regina. 

“The most effective potions are usually the most disgusting, but the last ingredient should help,” the queen assured them.

“What’s left?” Emma asked, and Regina answered by plucking a hair off Emma’s head, drawing a yelp. (Killian was consequently more prepared when Regina grabbed a few of his.)

After twisting the hairs together, Regina dropped them into the brew and conjured a fireball, which she then used to ignite the burner below the cauldron. The gray, sludgy draught began to glow as Regina stirred it, until it illuminated the entire room with white light. Killian shielded his eyes from it, but a few moments later, it stopped, leaving behind a much more pleasant-looking purple liquid.

“That’s it?” Emma asked, peering in. “Where did all the gross go?”

“It’s saving itself for when your future child spits up on you,” Regina quipped with a smirk. 

“I’m suddenly remembering all the crap that goes along with birth, too,” Emma added. She cast an apologetic glance toward Killian. “Sorry in advance.”

He had to chuckle a bit. “I was a pirate for well over a century, love; I’ve seen more than my fair share of gore.” He waved his hook for emphasis. “I’m sure I can handle whatever’s to come.”

“I’m gonna remind you of that,” she teased back, smiling.

Regina made quick work of bottling the potion, making sure the right amount got into the vial, and handing it to Emma. “Well, there you go. Do you want to drink it now, or later?”

Emma took it gingerly, holding it in her fingers like it might break. For a moment, she studied it intently, but then turned to Killian. “Do you have your flask?”

He reached into his inner coat pocket to pull it out. “Of course.”

“Cheers?” she offered, a bit uncertainly, and held up the vial towards him.

With his thumb, he flicked the cork off his flask, suddenly aware that this would be one of the last times he could do so for a while, assuming all went well. “Cheers, love,” he replied, lightly tapping her drink with his.

Simultaneously, they brought their phials to their lips; he only took a small sip of his as he watched Emma drain the small bottle. It seemed to go down without issue, and she actually licked her lips when she was done. “That was actually...kind of sweet,” she observed, setting the empty glass on the table.

He stepped forward and took one of her hands. “How do you feel, love?” His worst fear was that it would somehow go on to hurt her.

“Fine,” she said right away, but then pressed her free hand low on her abdomen. “It tingles a little, but it’s not uncomfortable. What about you?”

“Nothing.” 

“And he probably won’t for a while,” Regina added, reading over the spell. “Just like normal conception, once it happens, you probably won’t notice for a bit.”

They nodded at her, and then stared at each other. A slight heaviness hung over them, realizing what might come next. But he knew a good way to diffuse the tension.

He gave Emma and wink and said, “So, love, what say we get started?”

She stepped a bit closer to him with a flirtatious smirk. “Sounds good to me.”

“Not in my vault, you won’t!” Regina exclaimed. “You have a room; go use it.”

“Okay, bye, Regina,” Emma said, not unlike a teenager might. “And thank you,” she added, more genuine.

The queen gave them a soft smile. “Good luck.”

The gray smoke of Emma’s magic then surrounded them, and they were back home, in their bedroom.

“You ready for this?” Emma was looking up at him with a tiny smile, slightly trepidatious, but he could also see the excitement in her eyes.

“Aye, love. With you, always.”

* * *

The next few weeks were some of the more pleasurable in Killian’s memory. How could he complain at the chance to make love to his amazing wife almost every night? Unless they had to work a late shift or were sick, they came together as often as possible in hopes of conceiving.

One night after their first couple attempts, falling sated into their bed after a rather pleasurable shower, Killian held Emma close to him with his hand over her midsection, as if he was trying to sense a change.

“Do you feel any different, love?” he asked quietly as her hand joined his.

“I mean, I’ve been pretty sore all over with how much we’ve been going at it, but I don’t feel any different than I normally do after sex.” She squeezed his hand. “It’ll happen when it happens.”

“Aye,” he agreed, but he was finding he was more impatient than he thought he’d be.

About three weeks after taking the potion, Killian awoke one morning with a queasy stomach. Remembering that as being one of the early signs of pregnancy, he got excited, even if all he could manage for breakfast was some dry toast. But Emma’s complaints of cramps and menses later on put those thoughts to rest for a bit, and his stomach bug disappeared after a day.

After that, he tried to tamp down his own expectations, reminding himself what Emma said—it would happen when it was meant to. They certainly enjoyed their continued copulation as they tried, and managed not scar Henry in the process, which was an added bonus. 

* * *

It was some weeks later when Emma joined Killian in the kitchen for breakfast, placed her awful tart pastries in the toaster, then leaned against the counter to look at him while he ate his cereal (a marvelous invention, really). “Hey, Killian,” she started.

“Yes, my love?” He looked up from his bowl at her. Her hands were crossed over her chest and she was studying him with a warm gaze. “What is it?”

“I think you might be pregnant.”

He swallowed; he truly didn’t want to get his hopes up again. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, for starters, my boobs kind of hurt, and it has nothing to do with what we did last night.” He involuntarily licked his lips at the memory, making her chuckle. “And second...I’m late.”

“How late?”

“A couple weeks.”

He hazarded a glance down at his stomach. Could there really be a new life growing in there, and he hadn’t noticed? He had been a bit more fatigued as of late, but he figured that was more to do with their evening activities than anything. And he was glad he hadn’t overindulged on alcohol anytime recently. Glancing back up, he asked, “How do we know for sure?”

“Well, I guess we should take a test.”

He’d seen the bits of plastic here that could tell a woman if she was with child, though he still wasn’t sure how they worked; it seemed to be time he found out. “Alright then. Shall you or I take it?”

Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh. I don’t know. Maybe we both should, to be safe?”

They swung through the pharmacy on the way to work that morning, unable to wait any longer. And, over the course of the morning, they both took one (though he was quite shocked that his urine held the answer). 

And both came up positive. 

For a good, long moment, Killian just stared at the little plus sign on his, letting it wash over him: they were going to be parents. Unconsciously, his hand settled on his stomach where the product of their love now resided. There was still a long journey ahead of them, but knowing that they’d finally started it was an incredible feeling.

Blessedly, Leroy did not show up to the station unannounced as they celebrated the news in the back room. 

* * *

To make sure, they scheduled an appointment with Dr. Whale, who confirmed it via a blood test: Killian was indeed pregnant. A further scan of his abdomen showed the image of a tiny, bean-shaped being deep inside him, and the doctor said the child was approximately 6 weeks along and would be due in late October, around Emma’s birthday.

As Killian cleaned the weird, cool gel off his stomach, he did have to ask, “Whale, how do you not find this odd?” Not once had the doctor questioned the fact that Killian was expecting rather than Emma. 

Whale just shrugged. “Anything is possible with magic. I learned ages ago not to question it.”

Given the long list of odd things he’d born witness to as well, Killian accepted his answer. “Fair enough.”

The doctor printed off images of their child for them to take home and vowed not to say a word until they made it public knowledge. (The threat of Killian’s hook probably helped.)

Back home that night, they lay in bed as the sweat cooled on their bare skin, and Emma’s hand drifted down to rest just above his belly button. “I still can’t believe it worked,” she murmured in awe.

He placed his hand over hers. “Did you truly doubt it would?”

“Honestly, I’d kind of started to lose hope; and when I was late, I did panic for a second that the bean was in me.”

“Oh, love,” he said, pulling her tight with his blunted arm. He wished she’d told him her fears sooner. Though—hold on—“Did you say ‘the bean’?”

She smiled up at him sheepishly. “Yeah; I mean, we don’t know if the kid is a he or a she, and the picture looked a lot like a magic bean; so, given our history with those…”

He couldn’t help the grin that split his face at her explanation, though the tears that started brimming at his eyes were likely due to hormones. Memories of their trip up and down the beanstalk, and so many adventures in between, flooded his mind; it was honestly kind of amazing that they’d come this far from all of that. 

“It’s perfect, Emma.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re having our very own magic bean,” he added, voice thick with emotion.

She placed a kiss on his shoulder. “And this one is going to take us on the greatest adventure of all.”


	3. Breaking the News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Killian's pregnancy confirmed, it's time to let everyone else know. How will Henry, David, Snow, and the rest of Storybrooke take the news?

The view of the horizon from the deck of the Jolly Roger was typically a calming sight, but today, Killian felt a bit more on the seasick side. It wasn’t because it was particularly choppy or anything—he’d certainly weathered worse without getting green around the gills. 

There were two possible reasons for his queasiness: one, it was the start of the bouts of nausea that usually accompanied this stage of pregnancy; or two, it was because he was telling Henry today. 

It had been a just over a week since they’d received confirmation they were expecting, so it had been a week of debating how to let the lad know. Emma had wanted to just come right out with it, insisting Henry would take it fine. And Killian knew he would. But he couldn’t shake the need to break the news himself, so a weekend sailing outing seemed the best way. 

Henry was 16 now, almost 17—nearly a man—but watching him tie off a line, it didn’t seem so long since he’d first taught him those knots, back after their return to Storybrooke from New York. How did that boy become this lanky teenager, right in front of Killian’s eyes? Would that happen with the next one?

From his place at the helm, Killian tried to blink back tears at the sudden onslaught of emotions—definitely the most obvious evidence of his state so far—as his hand drifted to his still-flat stomach, currently bundled in a parka. 

In an attempt to pull it together, he shook his head and sniffled; the fact that it was still sharply cold out didn’t help matters. But the noise caught Henry’s attention anyway.

“You okay, Killian?” he shouted from the lower deck, done with what he was working on and moving towards the quarterdeck. Instinct told Killian to lie, insist he was fine and brush it all off. But it was time be honest.

“I’ve never been better, lad,” he answered truthfully. “Come here,” he added, beckoning. “Give me a hand with the anchor and then let’s chat.”

Henry bounded up the stairs two at a time and gave Killian a curious look. “Good chat or bad chat?”

“Pretty good, I think,” he replied optimistically. Henry accepted it, relaxing a bit as the worked together to cast the anchor. From where they floated, Storybrooke looked small on the gray horizon; it was hard to believe such a seemingly quiet town had changed his life so dramatically.

“Now, are you going to tell me why you brought me out on the ocean in March, when there’s still snow on the ground?” Henry teased as they leaned against the ship’s railing. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I saw an iceberg, and I know you’ve seen Titanic.”

Killian just chuckled; Henry was far too astute for his age. “Aye; I did bring you out here for a reason.” He swallowed, trying to calm his stomach as he began. “Now, you know your mother and I love you very much—”

“Hold on; I gotta stop you right there,” Henry interrupted, to Killian’s surprise. “There are only three things you can be getting at by starting with that, so I’ll spare you the speech, even if you’re good at them.” Killian exhaled, slightly relieved, but wondered what Henry suspected. “I can eliminate the first one, because there’s no way you and my mom are getting divorced with how much you two get it on.” Now Killian was blushing; apparently, they weren’t as discrete as they thought. “And I don’t think either of you are dying, because Mom would be a lot more mopey if that was the case.”

“Right on both counts so far,” Killian confirmed. “So what’s your next guess?”

“You guys are having a baby and don’t want me to feel left out or that I’m being replaced.”

Killian released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He really shouldn’t have been surprised that Henry would figure it out. “Yeah, we are.”

“Really?” Henry was grinning.

“Really.”

Killian had to step back to brace himself against Henry’s excited embrace. “I get to be a big brother?” he practically shouted into Killian’s shoulder.

“And a damn fine one you’ll be,” Killian replied, hugging Henry close. “You’re truly alright with this?” he asked, searching for confirmation when they broke apart.

“Of course. I get why you guys would be worried, but I promise, I’m fine. I’m excited for you. Honestly, I’d been wondering when you’d finally get around to it.”

Killian snorted; given how aware the boy apparently was of their nighttime activities, he probably assumed it was inevitable. “It took some time for your mother to warm up to the idea. She doesn’t exactly have the best memories of being pregnant.”

“I know,” he answered. “So, when’s the kid due? How far along is she? I haven’t noticed Mom acting too different yet.”

Killian’s stomach twisted again; now he had to reveal the next part. “Well, um, that’s the other thing; your mother isn’t carrying the babe...I am.”

Henry nodded, less surprised than Killian anticipated. “Oh, so you’re...you have a…” He could tell Henry was trying to be polite, but resorted to just gesturing vaguely at Killian’s abdomen.

“Ah, no.” He could tell what Henry was implying. “I’m...borrowing it, I suppose, from your mother. Magic,” he said with a shrug, offering it as an explanation.

“Say no more,” Henry said, waving him off. “Seriously—the less I know, the better.”

“Agreed,” Killian answered, laughing.

“So...how do  _ you  _ feel? Oh no, I didn’t hug you too tight—did I?” Henry’s ability to adapt to any scenario would never cease to amaze him.

“You’re fine, lad. And so am I; a wee bit nauseous, and I expect that will get worse, but I’ve no complaints of yet.”

“Yet,” Henry threw back, teasing. “Don’t worry; I’ll help out with the yard work and whatnot when you’re too big to move.”

“Hey! I won’t get that big.” (He wouldn’t, right?)

Henry just gave him a sideways glance.

“Well, I appreciate the offer nonetheless.” Suddenly, the image of Henry looking after and helping mentor his future sibling flooded Killian’s mind, reminding him of his own relationship with his brother. In a weepy voice, he told him, “You’re gonna be a fantastic big brother.”

“Are you crying because your emotions are going crazy?”

“That I am, and you better get used to it, mate,” he quipped back, laughing through his tears.

Henry just smiled back. “I think I can handle it. And I can’t wait to meet my new sibling.”

There was nothing left to do but seal it with a hug. 

* * *

They wanted to wait a bit longer before telling her parents—they weren’t concerned about whether or not they’d approve, but just wanted to make sure everything was okay before Snow inevitably went into baby-prep mode.

At least, that was the plan. Until the day during his tenth week when Killian emerged from the restroom at the station, after going a round with the porcelain basin, to find David standing near the desk looking worried.

“Hook, are you okay?”

Truthfully, the nausea was getting the best of him. It wasn’t to an extreme level, but he couldn’t wait for the day he didn’t find himself hovering over the toilet several times. He was getting by on bland foods and ginger ale—which he proceeded to grab a can of from the mini fridge by the coffee machine—but he was rather tired of this part of pregnancy.

And tired in general. “I’m fine; just ate something that didn’t sit right,” he explained in a weary voice as he plopped down on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table, which had been aching something fierce. “I’ll be ship-shape in no time.”

David clearly didn’t believe him, and was now staring at him curiously. “Nice shoes,” he commented in an investigative tone, nodding at the slip-on sneakers he wore. Emma had bought them for him as a more comfortable alternative to his boots, and given that his ankles had begun to swell, they came in handy. Of course, he couldn’t tell Dave that. “Uh, thanks.”

His stomach gave a lurch then; he pressed his left arm on it to combat the pain and took a sip of the ginger ale, sighing at the almost instantaneous relief. 

“What, no rum with your drink?” David was surprised, it seemed.

“Afraid not; adding alcohol to an upset stomach is generally a bad idea.” And, obviously, bad for the babe, but he found he didn’t miss it as much as he thought he would. If anything, that part was going to be better for him in the long run. He just hoped Dave bought the misdirect.

“And you’re sure it’s just a stomach bug?”

“What else could it be, Dave?” What else could the prince suspect? This situation was far from common.

“It’s just...you remind me of...never mind.”

“Of what?” Killian demanded, nearly losing his patience. 

“Well, you’re acting like Snow did when she was pregnant.”

Oh. Then perhaps he did have an idea. Killian had no response to that.

David picked up on Killian’s silence. “See, normally this would be where you’d laugh with me and refute it, because there’s no way, right?”

Killian just swallowed.

“Right?” David repeated, sounding nervous.

Killian glanced up at him; David was staring with an almost unreadable expression that fell somewhere between excitement and disbelief. And Killian just didn’t have it in him to lie anymore. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, actually.”

Looking much like his daughter when he proposed the idea in the first place, David’s jaw dropped open, and for a long moment, his eyes just darted back and forth between Killian’s face and stomach, which his hook still rested on. “You...you’re…?” his father-in-law sputtered.

“I’m pregnant, David.” It felt good to say it out loud to someone other than Emma.

“Holy shit,” he blurted out, then practically collapsed on the couch next to Killian. “Seriously?”

“It’s a little far-fetched to make up, don’t you think?” David continued to stare at him with a wide-eyed expression; he obviously had many questions. “Ask away; I can tell you want to.”

Thankfully, no one came into the station while David interrogated Killian on the hows and whys of his gravidity, and seemed relieved to find out that it was definitely his and Emma’s child and that it was planned. 

“I’m gonna be a grandfather again,” he finally concluded, a dreamy smile taking over his face. 

“Aye, that you are.” Killian couldn’t help his own grin, or the happy tears that sprang forth unbidden—he was still getting used to the intense mood swings.

“Come here, man!” David practically shouted before pulling Killian into a tight hug. “Oh, I’m so happy for you guys. Let us know if you need anything. Anything.”

“Thank you, mate,” he answered in a watery voice. “You have no idea how much that means to us.” They broke apart and Killian wiped the tears from his eyes. “Just...please don’t tell Snow just yet. We’d planned on waiting a few more weeks, just to be sure of everything.”

“I’ll do my best; you know how she is.”

“I know.” Both men chuckled. “We won’t make you hold it for long. I’m assuming this isn’t what you expected when you came to the station, though?”

“Definitely not.” They shared another laugh and got on with business—Dave just needed help with a permit for some work to be done at the farm—and once it was squared away, he made to leave so Killian could get a bit more rest.

“And, uh, Killian?” he started, almost timidly, as he stood by the door.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for doing this,” he said, gesturing toward Killian’s abdomen. “I’m sure it means a lot to Emma and...it means a lot to me, too.”

Again, Killian found himself emotionally overwhelmed. “I-it’s my honor, really,” he stammered, trying to keep his tears at bay this time.

They exchanged a nod, bid each other farewell, and Killian resumed his spot on the couch. He placed his hand low on his stomach, and whispered, “You’re going to have the best grandfather, little one.”

* * *

He told Emma of his encounter with her father that night, but they remained in agreement on the decision to wait to tell Snow, or anyone else, until they were out of the first trimester. And David had kept his word, but not even a week later, at family dinner night at the farmhouse, their plans were derailed.

Barely even five minutes after sitting down to eat, Snow blurted it out. “Killian...are you pregnant?”

The bite of salad that was halfway to his mouth stopped in midair. He threw a panicked look at Emma, who wore an equally astonished expression. “I, ah, um…” he stuttered, knowing it was useless to lie but caught off guard nonetheless. “I—” “We—” he and Emma started at the same time, but then stopped at the other’s voice, both chuckling nervously. Then she gave him a half smile and shrugged; her way of saying that they might as well.

He turned back to Snow, smiling nervously. “How could you tell?”

Snow replied with a shriek of joy, making Neal jump in his high chair, and leaping out of her own seat to bring Killian into her embrace. “Oh, I’m so thrilled for you!” Just as fast as she’d hugged Killian, she dashed over to Emma to do the same, and then collapsed back at her spot at the table. “How far along? Are you going to find out the gender? Have you picked nursery colors yet? Oh, wait til I tell Granny!”

“Slow down, Snow,” David interjected, chuckling and placing his hand over hers. 

They quickly filled her in on the details—eleven weeks, yes, and not yet—before Emma had to wonder, “Mom, why aren’t you asking why it’s him and not me?”

Snow brushed it off. “After all the crazy magic I’ve seen in my life, it was a pretty easy answer to come to. Plus, it was so obvious.”

“How so?” Killian asked; he’d been trying hard to hide the symptoms.

“For starters, there was an awful lot of ginger tea in your cart when I saw you at the grocery store a couple weeks ago. Killian, you stopped wearing your boots, I’m assuming because your ankles started swelling. I woke you up from a nap at lunchtime the other day. And tonight, you’ve got water and Emma has wine and not a lick of protest was made—which I’m assuming means you already knew, David, which is a conversation for another time.”

It probably shouldn’t have been so surprising that Snow was that observant, but still, he was blown away by her keen eye.

“Dang, Mom—why haven’t we hired you as a detective yet?” Emma joked, also impressed.

“You couldn’t afford me,” she teased back. They continued to chat about the pregnancy over the rest of the meal, and Snow attempted to push seconds on him, but his stomach was uneasy even with the amount he’d eaten. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing, then,” she exclaimed and dashed off to the kitchen, only to return a couple minutes later with a tea-like concoction. “Here—this helped me a lot with both pregnancies. I know they say ‘the sicker you are, the healthier the baby,’ but it gets to a point when there’s no way the baby can be anything but immune to everything.”

“Definitely.” The mixture wasn’t the most appetizing, but it worked wonders—for the first time in weeks, he was able to hold down a savory meal. He didn’t dare test it with dessert, but it was nice to spend an evening at peace without dashing to the lavatory. “Thank you again for that, Snow,” he effused as they got ready to leave. “You’ve no idea the relief this is.”

“Oh, I do,” she quipped, and pressed a piece of paper in his hand that he could only presume carried the recipe. “But seriously—anything you need, let us know. And I promise to keep this a secret until you say it’s okay.”

Emma threw a nervous glance at Killian—they both knew her mom’s track record with secrets.

They posted it on Facebook, with a brief explanation, that night.

* * *

Storybrooke being Storybrooke, it didn’t take long for word to spread that they were expecting. And for the most part, everyone was receptive and supportive. Belle handed over her pregnancy books, Gepetto had already offered to build a crib and rocking chair, and Aurora stopped him the other day to offer tips on how to get through the aches and pains; considering their history, she in particular surprised him.

Having the knowledge out there made everything seem a bit more real. Obviously, he was aware of the changes going on in his body, minimal as they were so far (but still a difference from the past couple centuries). Being able to share their excitement with others, though, added a level of reality he hadn’t expected. Yes, the child was his and Emma’s, but the bean would also become a member of this tight-knit community and already had so many people looking out for it; it was almost overwhelming. 

Also overwhelming was the fact that at thirteen weeks, he was still getting morning sickness. It was at least living up to its name and generally only occured in the early part of the day, and Snow’s home remedy was a godsend, but he was rather tired of it. At least now, he didn’t have to explain the reason he dashed to use the lavatory before taking a seat at the counter at Granny’s.

Today, a hot mug of ginger tea with honey was waiting for him after his daily trip. It was exactly what he needed, and the hot tea soothed his upset stomach. “Thank you, milady,” he said, sighing.

“Make sure you drink all of it, son,” Granny commanded from farther down the counter, where she was refilling Grumpy’s coffee cup. She’d been quick to revoke Killian’s caffeine once she got the news, but still had her way of looking out for him. “The usual today?”

“Actually…” The odd thing was that even if the nausea lingered, the weird cravings had started to trickle in. “You wouldn’t happen to have any anchovies, would you?”

Granny just shook her head and chuckled, but shortly after, he had an anchovy and swiss omelet in front of him with hash browns and hot sauce.

“Oh, Lady Lucas, this looks perfect. However did you know?”

“Been there, done that. Eat up, hon,” she directed with a loving pat on his cheek. Being mothered was certainly an unfamiliar sensation, but not an unwelcome one. And oh, but this meal was perfect; he let out an involuntary groan of pleasure after the first bite.

Back at the other end of counter, Killian heard a scoff followed by some unintelligible grumbling. He took another bite and then glanced down, only to see that Grumpy was giving him a sidelong stare and muttering to himself.

“If you’ve something to say, dwarf, I suggest you speak up,” he called out in his most menacing tone.

Grumpy slammed his mug down on the counter, sloshing some over the edge. “Am I the only one that thinks it weird and unnatural? Can’t we just have one normal thing around here? Why’s it all gotta be magical bullshit?”

That was the reaction Killian had been expecting, honestly. At one point, he’d braced himself for it, but when every else was so receptive, he’d let his guard down. So this—this was an unexpected punch to the gut emotionally, only made worse by the fact that his were already all over the place.

He stared down into his plate, vision going blurry with tears. What had they been thinking, going through with this? What had he been thinking? Just because something was possible didn’t mean it had to be done. They could have found another way. They could have—

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by an odd thunk, the shatter of glass, and a collective gasp. He immediately looked up, only to see Grumpy’s broken mug lying in a puddle on the counter and an arrow stuck into the opposite wall.

Granny stood in the doorway from the kitchen, now-empty crossbow leveled at the dwarf. “Seriously, Leroy? This entire town only exists because of a curse, a werewolf makes your bacon, and you hatched out of a goddamned egg. You’ve got no room to call out anything for being unnatural.” She lowered the weapon and took a few steps forward. “And you can’t even try to tell me that pregnancy isn’t hard, so you’ve got some options here: apologize, leave, or both.”

Killian sniffed and wiped his eyes, unsure of what he was seeing; had Granny actually come to his defense? Support was one thing, but this…

Grumpy suddenly turned sheepish, barked out a quick “sorry” in Killian’s direction, then threw some cash on the counter and ran out of the diner with his proverbial tail between his legs. The hush that had settled over the diner dissipated with the clanging of the door bell and everyone returned to business as usual, as though Granny firing off a round inside and berating a customer was a typical occurrence (which, surprisingly, it was not).

“Don’t you dare listen to a word he said.” Granny was suddenly in front of him, with a comforting squeeze of his hand even though she still held her crossbow in her other arm. “Unconventional does not mean it’s wrong, and I can guarantee that every woman in this town has your back, and most of the men, too. Grumpy is just...grumpy.”

He sniffed again and nodded. “I know, and thank you, milady. It just was a bit of a shock.”

“And your already-crazy emotions don’t help, right?”

“Aye,” he agreed with a watery chuckle. 

“You’ll get through it; don’t worry. And for the record, I think it’s terribly sweet of you to take this on.”

He could feel tears welling again, but happy ones this time. “That means more than you know, Lady Lucas,” he thanked her, trying not to cry. 

She just squeezed his hand again and then told him, “Now eat up. You’re growing a person; gotta keep up your energy!”

“Will do, ma’am,” he answered, obeying her command. Suddenly starving, as if his rapid emotional shifts had taken that much out of him, he scarfed the rest down and finished his tea before heading to the register to pay. 

But she waved him off. “My treat today. And here,” she said, handing him a small bag. “This is for later.”

He could smell the blueberry muffin and bear claw through the packaging and his mouth watered. “I truly can’t thank you enough, Granny. For everything.”

“You can thank me by letting me take care of you; think you can do that?”

“I think I can manage,” he answered, smiling. 

“Good.”

As he headed out and down to the station, his hand wandered down to his stomach, as he’d found himself doing more and more often lately. Just knowing how many people were going to look out for their child filled him with joy, and he couldn’t wait to introduce the bean to the world. 


	4. Out in the Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian starts showing, and they find out the gender of their baby. But along with his growing belly, some of Emma's insecurities make an appearance, too.

Both he and Emma were keenly watching the changes in his body as the pregnancy progressed and the baby grew. It was some time before he gained any weight, but once the nausea passed, he did notice his clothes feeling a bit more snug, but not uncomfortably so, and every now and then he felt a growing pain as his hips widened in preparation of all that was to come. More rare, but more exciting, were the occasional flutters of movement within him.

Given that he was mostly lean muscle to start with, and the fact that a life at sea required extra core strength, they knew not to expect a noticeable bump until later than average. So, in the meantime, he contented himself with focusing on the slight change in Emma’s mammaries—while he obviously was carrying the brunt of this whole operation, Emma wasn’t excluded as her body slowly prepared for nursing, and her fuller breasts combined with his raging hormones meant they were spending an increased amount of time in the bedroom.

Which is exactly where he was when, at around 16 weeks, he was struggling to button his jeans. No matter how hard he tugged, the clasp just wouldn’t reach like it had the day before. Wait—did that mean...?

He stood in front of their floor length mirror and slowly turned to the side. Sure enough, a slight bump was there, just behind his belly button, rounding out his normally flat stomach. Cautiously, he placed his hand on it and traced the slight curve. It was real; he wasn’t imagining it. “Incredible,” he whispered to himself.

He was so entranced that he hardly noticed when Emma walked in, fresh out of the shower. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the sight. “Killian, is that...are you…?”

Not taking her eyes off his waist, she slowly walked towards him and too reached out to feel the slight swell. “Oh my God,” she murmured. “It’s real.”

“I could have told you that, love,” he quipped; he hadn’t gone through the pain of the past few months for nought.

“I know, but...now, we get to see it.” Her voice was full of awe as she danced her fingers over his abdomen, exploring where the curve began and ended. Honestly, it was hardly noticeable—it looked like he’d just had a large breakfast, really—but seeing it and knowing what lay within did add a level of tangibility to everything. There really was a growing child in there.

The euphoria of that revelation, paired with the incredible feeling of Emma’s touch on his skin, sent his thoughts—and blood—elsewhere rather quickly; damn his hormones. “Swan,” he rasped, finally drawing her eyes away from his belly. “I—I might need—”

“I’ve got you,” she breathed, quickly finding his mouth with hers. They ended up late to the station that morning, but honestly, who would deny them the celebration?

* * *

As soon as other people noticed he was showing, speculation immediately started as to the gender of their child.

“Oh, you’re carrying low—must be a boy!”

“When it’s all out in front like that, it means you’re having a girl!”

He and Emma were agreed that they had no preference, as long as the child was healthy, but they did anxiously await the 20-week appointment where they’d get to find out.

Even just seeing the child on screen was enough to bring Killian to tears (he’d taken to keeping several handkerchiefs in his leather jacket nowadays). There were so many details—arms, legs, feet, hands, a spine! It was surreal to see the image of the child moving around in tandem with the motion he could sense within; Emma hadn’t yet been able to feel it, but he knew she’d be able to soon.

And when the doctor revealed the gender, they both burst into happy tears. They didn’t have to refer to their child as a bean now—they could use proper pronouns and give serious thought to names. They had already decided on a nautical theme for the nursery, but he was sure that Snow wouldn’t be able to resist adding some extra touches to indicate whether it was a prince or princess in residence.

They told Henry right away, unable to keep it to themselves (and knowing that he’d make their lives hell if they didn’t—the lad got his manipulation skills from his grandfather), but waited for another family dinner to break the news to her parents.

Snow greeted them at the farmhouse door, ushering them in from the spring rain coming down outside, and welcomed them all in with hugs, saving Killian for last.

“Gosh, look at you!” she exclaimed. In all honesty, it had only been a couple days since Snow had last seen him, but it did feel like he got bigger and bigger with each that passed, which was somewhat disconcerting when he realized that he was at the halfway point, but their babe was nowhere near halfway done growing. At present, the bump was definitely obvious, the curve taking up his entire stomach, but only just. The fabric of his dress shirt, which used to hang slightly loose on his frame, was now taut but not strained. (His waistcoats, however, had stopped fitting a couple weeks ago.)

Snow practically shoved them all towards the sitting room, Henry making a beeline for where Neal was playing on the floor while Killian and Emma settled on the sofa. Snow proceeded to give Killian nearly a full inquisition: how was he feeling, where was he sore, had they signed up for lamaze classes yet, were they going to do a registry, and so on and so forth. He knew babies needed a lot of things, but he was astonished to learn at just how much was out there for the expectant, as well. And it became increasingly hard to not reveal the gender, but they wanted to wait until David was there, too.

Once Snow started talking about the odd rash she’d acquired in the later stages, he had never been so grateful for Dave to announce that dinner was ready. Emma was up off the couch in a flash and already working on her glass of wine by the time he got into the room—and he hadn’t slowed down at all yet; she was just that quick about it. After that conversation, he didn’t blame her, though, and almost wished he had his own glass of rum, but his lemon water would have to do.

After everything had been passed around and they’d dug into the meal, Snow asked, “So, have you guys thought of any names yet?”

Killian caught Emma’s eye before answering, giving her a small smile to let her know what he was about to do. There was something off in her eyes—some level of hurt that alarmed him—but she gave a tiny nod back, so he put that worry in the back of his mind for now and plugged on.

“Yeah, we’ve thought of a few names for her.”

“Oh, fantastic! I mean, you still have time and everything, and you might want to wait until—wait, _her_?”

“Her,” Emma answered reverently.

“Oh my goodness,” Snow replied breathlessly. Killian and Emma were well aware of what it would mean to her parents that they were having a daughter: that it would be a chance to give someone the childhood Emma had missed out on, to dote on a little girl with princess dresses and tiaras. Now, he’d been adamant from the get-go that his child would have a fair amount of pirate in them, but the thought of a little one in a frilly pink frock was also incredibly endearing.

Both of Emma’s parents were getting teary-eyed along with their grins, and Killian found himself getting emotional by proxy. David finally said, “We can’t wait to meet her,” in a watery voice.

Killian looked over at Emma, who was still smiling, but also had something of that lost girl look in her eyes; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that. He reached over to squeeze her hand, both in a gesture of comfort and of show. “Neither can we,” he finally said, continuing the conversation.

The rest of the evening was passed in much the same way—Snow being something of a mother hen to Killian, David clearly lost in daydreams and memories (or possibly memories of daydreams), Henry trying to explain it all to a confused Neal, and Emma slowly drawing into herself, to his concern—and their daughter’s, if the fluttering in his stomach was anything to go by.

Finally, they headed home—with a large bag of maternity goods Snow insisted he needed—and to his consternation, Emma headed straight to the bedroom, leaving him to put away the leftovers. He obviously didn’t mind, but he was concerned for whatever was plaguing Emma.

He followed her up shortly, carrying the tote from Snow. Emma was already in the shower when he reached their room, so he set the bag by the closet and changed into pajamas, though he did take a brief moment to look at his bare stomach in the mirror before slipping on a night shirt. It wasn’t like it was ever far from his thoughts, and it was hard to ignore the bump, but actually seeing where his daughter was growing was still a small thrill.

When Emma emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet and in her own pajamas, she seemed to have perked up a bit—until she saw the bag sitting near the closet and he watched as her face fell. He closed the book he’d been reading and set it aside, quietly asking, “Swan? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she muttered unconvincingly as she flopped on the bed next to him, staring at the ceiling.

“Open book, love,” he reminded her. “I know something has been bothering you all night. How can I help?”

She gave a small sigh and rolled over to face him. “Not be pregnant?”

His heart fell into his stomach. Was she having second thoughts about the baby? Did she not want to be with him anymore?

“It’s not what you’re thinking, babe; calm down,” she started, sitting up and likely seeing his reaction. “It’s just…when I saw the way my mom was fawning over you tonight, I couldn’t help but think how that was something she and I should be bonding over, and how if maybe I’d had that the first time around, I wouldn’t be so scared to do it again. And then when we told them she’s a girl, it was exactly what we thought would happen—they’re taking it as a second chance at the childhood I should have had, and it reminded me of all the times as a kid I’d see other girls adopted before me.”

“Oh, Emma,” he breathed, in a watery voice. “You’re not—I’d never—they wouldn’t—” His heart was breaking for his wife and he couldn’t put it into words how much none of that was her fault. He honestly should have predicted it.

“Killian, don’t—I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupted, placing a hand on his chest. “I know how illogical that all is—to think that I’m being replaced by my own daughter? Come on. And I know my mom would be all over me if it weren’t for my damn issues. I guess...it was just a lot tonight, and it kind of all hit at once. I just need to get over it.”

He could see some of her old walls start to rise back up in the way she avoided his eyes and hunched her shoulders in on herself. And he be damned if he let her stay like that.

“My darling,” he whispered, nudging her chin up with his fingers to make eye contact, which she was reluctant to send his way. “No one will judge you for thinking or feeling those things, least of all me. It’s completely understandable, and I apologize for not seeing it sooner. And I know I can’t do anything to change the past, but the one thing I can assure you of is that you have a family that loves you to no end, just as you are. And this child,” he added, placing his hand on the bump for emphasis, “won’t give a single damn who carried her; she’ll only know that she has two parents who would do anything for her and have since day 1.”

Emma nodded, giving him a half smile, before scooting closer to wrap her arms around him and rest her head on his shoulder. “How do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked into his neck.

“Because I’m your True Love, and that’s what we do,” he replied confidently, pulling her close.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be supporting you, though, and getting you through all this crazy shit.”

“Well, for starters, that’s nonsense; we’re in this together, always. And we’ve still a ways to go; I’m sure I’ll be needing you to talk sense into me more than once in the next few months.”

He felt more than heard her chuckle against his skin, and just enjoyed the chance to hold her in his arms, knowing that it would get harder to do down the line.

But then he felt something else. “Oh!” he exclaimed, hand rushing to a spot on his side.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Emma asked, alarmed, as she pulled away and hovered, as if she was afraid she’d hurt him.

The feeling persisted, and an incredible sense of elation took hold of him. He looked back at Emma, grinning, and grabbed her hand. “Here,” he told her, placing her palm where his had just been.

“Killian, what’s—oh!” The concerned furrow of her brow quickly turned to a look of surprise when she felt it: their daughter, happily kicking away at the outside of his stomach. “That’s her!” Emma’s entire face lit up as the baby continued to hit against her hand. “Oh my god,” she murmured, and all the fear and hurt that had been etched in her features a minute ago had disappeared, replaced by pure glee.

With his hook this time, he again brought her chin up level with his, but this time to kiss her. How the gods had seen fit to place him at her side, and bless them with this gift of a child, was something he’d never understand but would be eternally grateful for.

It certainly wouldn’t be the last time either of them had a crisis of conscious or have old feelings resurface, but it was a reminder that they’d always have the other to lean on.

* * *

 

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you want a visual reference, this is where Killian's belly is at both parts of the story (I'll have these for every chapter :D)


	5. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the baby continues to grow, Killian faces some unexpected challenges: dressing his swelling belly and trying to beat the heat when there's something constantly pressing on your insides. But he's always got Emma to help him out.

It seemed as though things started progressing even faster once they found out they were having a girl. The room they’d designated as a nursery was suddenly cleared, and a small pile of infant goods was growing in it. Henry was constantly listing off names he liked (though he hadn’t yet figured out why Emma laughed at the suggestion of Padme). And one day, while working by himself at the station, he felt the little lass (as he’d taken to calling her) start kicking in reaction to him singing to her.

Everything was thrilling in its own right, but the one annoying thing was trying to dress. It didn’t take long for his button-up shirts to stop buttoning, and he wasn’t sure his jeans would ever fit him again. (The thought of his old leather pants was laughable.) He was getting by with the soft cotton tshirts Emma had bought him when he first moved in, but now in his 24th week, the bump was starting to stretch against them and display itself proudly and prominently in front of him. She was definitely his daughter in that regard.

He was cursing at unforgiving denim one morning before work, when not even the hair elastic trick would hold his pants together, while Emma just watched him and started laughing.

“You are ever so helpful, Swan,” he sarcastically called out as he struggled.

“You knew this was coming,” she threw back. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even got them to last this long.”

He mumbled a response, but she apparently didn’t hear.

“Um, louder for the rest of the class there?”

“I said, they’re your father’s jeans,” he admitted in defeat. “Your mother lent them to me, since he wears a larger size. But, apparently, I’m too big even for those now.” He hung his head, fly still undone, and massaged the spot just below his belly button that seemed to be their daughter’s target this morning.

“Come here,” she sighed, holding her hands out and beckoning him to her. He shuffled over and was slightly surprised when she went right for the jeans.

She grabbed both sides of the clasp and then he caught the white glow of her magic as she easily joined them and secured the closing. “There; that should get you through another couple weeks. But we will have to figure out something past that.”

“I’m not wearing a dress, Emma,” he warned, remembering her mother’s outfits of choice when she was expecting Neal.

Emma just laughed. “I didn’t think you would. But there’s lots of stuff out there; we’ll find something.”

“Can’t you just magic them a bit bigger each day?”

“Even my magic has a limit,” she jested.

He just rolled his eyes. “Why are you and Henry so convinced I’ll become irredeemably large?”

“You know I’m teasing,” she replied with a giggle. “You’ll be fine.”

“I sure hope so.”

As they dressed a few days later, Emma tossed a new pair of pants at him. “Try these on.”

He arched an eyebrow in curiosity as he inspected the garment. The material felt like his usual jeans for the most part, but some of it seemed more flexible—incredibly so.

“The stretchy part goes in front,” she called over her shoulder as she got ready.

He did as she directed and slipped them on over his boxer briefs (which, thankfully, still fit just fine). The legs looked and felt much like his old black jeans, which was a nice change from David’s worn and faded blue. What truly shocked him, though, was the wide band of elastic-like material on the top that wrapped around the bump. Looking at himself in the mirror, he noted that they went up a bit farther than he’d like, ending high on his stomach, but he couldn’t deny that the jeans were incredibly comfortable.

“You like ‘em?” Emma asked, coming up from behind and wrapping her arms around him, settling them on the middle of his belly. Her chin rested on his shoulder and they both stared at his reflection.

“They’re perfect, my dear. Thank you.” He placed his hand over hers and turned his head to kiss her. And then turned his whole body to kiss her some more, even with the bit of distance his bump put between them.

Eventually, she pulled back, giggling and breathless. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you should probably put a shirt on or else we’ll never get to the station.”

“Or,” he countered, pressing back into her space as much as he could, “I could take these off.” He slipped a finger under the elastic and let it snap back against his skin.

“Mmm, okay.”

It was incredibly hard to find a complaint about his current state when he was still able to please his love so.

* * *

Never mind—he could find plenty of things to complain about.

That summer was one of the hottest on record in Maine, and of course, it peaked the day that their cold air machine decided to stop working.

(“It’s called an air conditioner, Killian.” “Whatever it is, put the fear of God into it and command that it start functioning again!” “I’ll call the technician.”)

And, of course, it hit on the day Killian had off from work and had decided to get some work done in the nursery. They’d painted the walls a pale seafoam green a couple weeks ago, and the beautiful white crib Gepetto made them sat in the corner, but that was all they’d done thus far.

His goal had been to finish hanging art on the walls, build the dresser, and fill it with clean clothes, in addition to other organization. The nesting instinct was starting to twitch, but even more was the captain’s habit of running a neat ship.

But even with the window open and a fan running, the second-floor bedroom was stifling. Killian hung two frames—nautical maps of both the Enchanted Forest and Maine—before admitting defeat to the swelter.

His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, making his sleeveless top cling to him.

His shaggy hair hung in his eyes because it would not stop growing (and don’t get him started on his chest hair—he swore he was becoming part animal).

His beard was also uncomfortably thick, so in a fit of rage, he shaved it off, only to immediately regret it, despite the way Emma had fawned over his smooth skin before she left that morning. (“You look so young!” “That’s why I had it in the first place!” “Well, on the bright side, it’ll grow back fast.” “Ugh!”)

And he was probably wearing a path in the floor in his many trips to the bathroom, because his daughter had decided his bladder was a plaything, apparently, so any amount of water he drank in an attempt to stay hydrated didn’t stay in his system long.

All in all, he was hot, tired, thirsty, and feeling much larger than he actually was at 28 weeks. Whale had said at his appointment the other day that everything was normal, but Killian was now convinced the man had lied to spare his feelings. Maybe Emma and Henry had been right about his size; there was no way he could keep going—the baggy tank top he wore covered everything, but he could feel the elastic of the athletic shorts he wore as lounge clothes protesting around his wider hips and under his belly. And yet, there were still nearly three months until the babe was due.

“Bloody buggering hell,” he cursed.

“Tell me how you really feel.” He nearly jumped at Emma’s interruption, and picked his head up to look at her—though, from where he was sprawled across the nursery floor, he had to make a considerable effort to do so in order to see over the swell of his belly.

He flopped back down and sighed dramatically. “Just leave me to my misery, love; I’m not fit to be company at present.”

“And yet you’re still more eloquent than I am on my best days,” she teased, walking into the room to stand over him. All he had the energy to do was leer at the increased size of her bosom as she stared down at him, but that just sent his hormones in another direction and he knew that wouldn’t be able to be resolved, so he just shut his eyes and groaned in frustration. “What is it, Killian?” she asked, voice softer now and a touch concerned.

He sighed. “It’s too bloody hot and I’m too blood tired and this child is a bloody footballer and I would love nothing more than to ravish you right now but I’m too bloody fat.”

He sensed her bending to kneal next to him. “Hey. You are not fat. You are growing a person and your body is accomodating it. And even if you were, remember—I’ve seen what you look like with some extra pounds around your middle, and you know what?”

“What?” he grumbled. He knew she was trying to cheer him up but he just wanted to wallow for a bit.

Emma leaned in and whispered into his ear, “I still would have banged him.”

Killian’s eyes flew open; now she knew she was appeasing him. “You can’t be serious, love.”

She held her hands out to him, beckoning him to take them. He did, and she tugged him to standing almost effortlessly, which was impressive considering the size of him (she was going to have to become a body builder to keep up with him at this rate). He briefly lost his balance, his belly altering his center of gravity every day, but she set him to rights.

“Tell me,” she started, “if it were me who was pregnant and saying I was fat, what would you do?”

He knew exactly what he’d do. “Remind you that no force on earth can take away your beauty, least of all a child, which probably would only enhance it.”

She hummed in agreement. “Now, why would I feel any different about you?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I look ridiculous and gross.”

“You do not. But wouldn’t you be a lot more comfortable without the shirt on?”

“Absolutely not.”

Her hands moved to his hips and started to slide up, taking the hem of his top with them. Leaning with a playful grin, she told him, “Oh, I think you would—”

“No!” he exclaimed, stepping out of her reach and pulling the edge of his shirt back down.

“Killian,” she huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “What the hell is going on?”

“Trust me, love; you don’t want to see me like this.”

“Like what? Killian, I married you for better or for worse. There is literally nothing you could throw at me that would turn me away.”

He hung his head and looked away from her. He knew she wasn’t lying, but he still wasn’t sure he believed her. Well, she wanted to see it, so he slowly lifted the edge of his shirt, revealing the lower half of his stomach, and braced for her reaction.

There was a pause, and he heard Emma take a few steps closer. “Stretch marks?” He nodded a response; he wasn’t sure when they’d shown up, but he caught sight of the array of lines on the underside of his belly in the mirror that morning. “You knew those were gonna happen, babe. They’re perfectly natural.”

“I know,” he admitted, dropping the hem of his shirt. “But knowing and seeing are two different things.” And he found once he’d started, he couldn’t stop revealing how he felt. “I knew this would be challenging, but some things have taken me off guard and I don’t believe I’m reacting to them properly. And today, I just...I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin at the moment.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” Emma answered. He finally looked back at her to see she wore a sympathetic smile. Then, holding a hand out to him, she said, “Come on. There’s something I want to try.”

“Swan, you don’t need to placate me; I just need to swallow my pride and deal with it,” he protested. She put up with his moods enough as it was.

Emma just rolled her eyes, though. “Uh-uh; that’s not how this works.” She walked over to him and grabbed his hand. “Now, come on,” she commanded, pulling him to follow her.

She led him downstairs, which was slightly cooler, and then out to the backyard, which was not. He was ready to protest again—and ask Smee to let him spend the night in the ice cream shop’s freezer—but Emma seemed to have a plan.

They stopped in front of the small inflatable pool they kept around for when Neal visited, or when they just felt like cooling off. Emma must have filled it that morning, knowing they’d need it later, and the idea of it did sound heavenly—if he didn’t have to take off his shirt, that was.

Suddenly, grey smoke swirled around her, leaving her in just a two-piece swimsuit. What on earth was she trying to do to him, dressed like that?

Carefully, she stepped into the pool, tugging him with her again, but he hesitated at the edge. All she had to do, though, was raise an eyebrow at him in challenge for him to comply and climb in. The water was warm, but still refreshing, even if it didn’t quite come up to his knees.

Standing in front of him, Emma placed her hands on his hips and stared up at him. “Trust me, okay?” she told him more than asked as she moved her hands up his side, taking his shirt with them. He was still hesitant, but he could never truly deny Emma anything, so he nodded and closed his eyes, even as he helped her slip it over her head.

He still didn’t quite feel like looking at his belly—he didn’t need to see it in order to feel the lass pressing against his ribs—but he had to open his eyes when he felt waves against his legs. Emma had taken a seat in the pool, the water coming up just below her bikini top, and her legs were open in front of her.

“Sit in front of me,” she directed. He did as asked, though it took longer than he would have liked to get down on his knees in front of her. “No, in front of me,” she insisted, emphasizing with a twirl of her finger. “Your back to my front.”

“Swan,” he started, but she just gave him that look again, so he huffed and shifted until he was seated on his rear, with her bent knees on either side of him.

He had to admit—it did feel nice to be in the cool water, which came about halfway up on his stomach. It seemed the babe did, too, as her movements calmed a bit.

Again, Emma’s hands found their way to his sides, and then continued to wrap around his front and pull him closer to her. He stiffened a bit, though—surely, he would crush her.

Although, her hands did seem to wrap around him without any issue. Perhaps the doctor had been right, and he wasn’t quite as massive as he thought he was.

“Relax,” Emma whispered in his ear, so he did, leaning back into her with a sigh.

For a moment, they just sat there, wrapped together, but then her hands began to massage his stomach, gently but firmly. She lightly kneaded his stretched skin and muscles, starting at the line of coarse hair below his navel and working up and around the sides, eventually tracing the entire orb that was now his midsection. For the parts that weren’t submerged, she cupped water and poured it over his flushed skin. At some point, he realized he was humming in pleasure; he’d been so lost in her divine touch that he’d lost track of just about everything else.

When she was done and he had completely melted into her under her magical ministrations, she hugged him again and murmured to him, “Killian, you are the strongest man I know; you were before this and it’s even more true now. I know some of it is scary and throws you for unexpected loops, but believe me when I tell you that I know you can handle it. And whenever you feel like you can’t, you have so many of us here for you. Me, my mom, Belle—we all know what you’re going through. Henry is right there, and so is my dad; hell, I’m pretty sure he’s jealous.” Killian chuckled at that; it was true—more than once, he’d caught the prince staring longingly at his belly. “I love you, so much,” Emma continued. “And so does this one,” she said, rubbing his stomach for emphasis, “even if she has a weird way of showing it.”

“I’ll say,” he agreed, but at least their daughter had finally ceased her assault on his kidneys.

“So any time you’re feeling uncomfortable, or self-conscious, come find me, okay?”

He had to consent to that, because she’d somehow managed to pull him out of the day’s funk. He was right when he predicted that she’d be the one to talk him down from his more dramatic moments as this journey went on, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. “Aye, love; I think I can do that.”

“Good. Now, how would it sound if I showed you just how much I loved you?” Her hand followed the curve of his belly down toward his groin, gently squeezing what she was after.

He groaned and his head fell back onto her shoulder; she took advantage of the opportunity to suck a kiss into his neck. “If-if you’re sure, Swan,” he stuttered out, arousal quickly growing.

“I’ve never been more positive.”

They spent the rest of that hot summer day heating up and cooling off, first in the pool, and later in their shower, and finally in bed once the air conditioning was fixed. As he drifted off to sleep, with their joined hands over the spot their child was gently kicking, he knew that he just might get through this whole thing after all—but only with Emma at his side.

_A/N: Here’s the belly update, and I’ve also got a manip of the first scene that I’ll be posting on tumblr in a bit :)_

__


	6. Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian's due date is drawing near. But first, he has to confront a scary situation, both physically and emotionally, with David; gets some interesting news from Belle; and pray that Snow can help him conquer boredom while waiting for their little bean to arrive.

Summer began to fade into fall and Killian’s due date loomed on the horizon. He still had quite a ways to go—seven weeks, by the doctor’s calculations. One one hand, he was eager to meet their daughter; but on the other (well, on his hook), he was glad they still had time to prepare.

That morning, Emma and Snow had shooed him and David out of the house so they could finish the nursery. They hadn’t wanted a full baby shower, but that didn’t stop the residents of Storybrooke from bringing them just about everything they could possibly need, and the ladies were bound and determined to get it organized today. For some reason, they assumed Killian would just be a hindrance, so Snow had put Neal in David’s arms and told the two of them to find something else to do.

They started with a late breakfast at Granny’s, where Killian initially balked at the size of the stack of pancakes she served him, only to finish them all off easily (no wonder Emma had to order him a larger size of maternity jeans). Then, since the weather was perfect albeit on the cool side, they decided it was a great day for a sail, and it likely would be the last chance he’d have to get out on the water for quite some time.

Not an hour later, they were fully at sea, Killian at the helm while David played with Neal on the deck. The sight of the little boy in his thick life jacket made Killian eager for the day his lass could do the same; and if the way she was moving around within him was any indication, she couldn’t wait either. That must have been why she jabbed him in the rib.

“Behave yourself, lass,” he whispered to her, rubbing at the spot she’d hit on the side of his 33-week belly through the thick hoodie he’d borrowed from David, though even that, oversized as it was, only just covered him. He couldn’t stand quite as close to the helm as he was used to, but having the ship’s wheel under his hand and staring out at the horizon still managed to calm him as it usually did.

Which was a good thing, because his thoughts had been everywhere lately. Quite often, they drifted to his good-for-nothing father, and how drastically that man paled in comparison to Emma’s. And what happened with Baelfire still haunted him, even though he knew he wasn’t that man anymore.

Watching David in action right then, and knowing all the man had done for his children, made him wonder what kind of father he would be; he couldn’t help the irrational worry that he’d be more like his own, even though he had vowed time and time again to not be like that, and Emma had reassured him he wouldn’t a thousand times over.

They’d been attending classes to prepare for birth and the early months of childcare, but he still felt somewhat overwhelmed at the prospect. Truthfully, what if he wasn’t fit to be a father?

As if she was confirming his fears—or possibly trying to tell him to get out of his own head—the babe gave him another sharp kick. Wait, no—that was stronger than a kick; this felt more like a cramp, and all over his stomach. He winced at it and started to rub the top of his belly to ease the pain. What was that?

Then it happened again, not even a minute later, but harder, making him curl in on himself as much as he could. He cried out involuntarily and gripped the wheel tight to hold himself up. Panic began to set in; what was going on?

“Hook!” Suddenly, David was at his side, one hand holding his shoulder and the other rubbing his back in a comforting motion. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I-I don’t know, mate—ahh!” His gasping turned into another cry as the pain clenched his abdomen again, even stronger this time, making him drop to his knees.

“Killian, is it the baby?” David asked, his voice just as frantic as Killian felt.

“It can’t be; it’s too soon!” he managed he managed to gasp out, but—was it? Was he having contractions already? He tried to take deep breaths, but his heart was almost racing too much for them to be effective.

“Come on; let’s get you below deck,” Dave said in an attempt at an authoritative tone, but Killian could tell he was freaking out as much as he was. Nevertheless, the prince slipped his hands under Killian’s shoulders and hauled him to his feet carefully but quickly, and started to lead him down the stairs from the quarterdeck, but Killian’s knees buckled after the first step from the residual pain.

David guided him to a seated position on the steps and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “We’re still in range. I’m calling Snow.”

“Good,” Killian panted out. The pain had subsided a bit since he sat down, and he could still feel his daughter moving around, but he was filled with fear—was she truly making her appearance so early? Would he be able to get to the hospital in time, or would he deliver her out here, without medical aid?

And, most importantly, what would it mean for her? He’d been following her development week by week through an app on Emma’s phone, and he knew babies born this early could survive, but it was risky.

Worst, was he the reason for this? Had he done something wrong that had brought this on? Was he failing his babe before she was even born?

He was pulled from his increasingly dark thoughts by a tiny squeeze on his knee. Little Neal was staring up at him with concern in his big blue eyes. “Kill’n, you okay?” he asked in his toddler voice.

“I hope so, lad,” he answered truthfully, and reached up to ruffle the boy’s dark hair. When he pulled his hand back, Neal grabbed it with his smaller one and held tight, as if he knew Killian need the extra comfort. Killian squeezed back, in awe of the depth of compassion from one so young; clearly, he learned it from his parents.

“Snow! Finally!” David shouted, pacing the deck with his phone at his ear. “It’s Hook; we think he’s having contractions.” He watched Killian as Snow talked to him, though Killian couldn’t hear what was being said, until, “Yeah, hold on.” He pulled the device away from his face and fiddled with it, finally saying, “Okay, you’re on speaker.”

“Killian, can you hear me?” Snow’s voice sounded from the phone.

“Yeah,” he called back, voice still strained but the pain was fading.

“Okay, Emma is checking things on her end to see if it’s labor, but tell me what you felt.” He described the sharp, sudden convulsion (“It was like everything was contracting; that’s what a contraction is, isn’t it?”) and answered her questions about where he felt it, how many times, and how far apart they were.

Eventually, he heard the murmur of Emma’s voice in the background. “Okay, Emma says things are normal with her, so I’m pretty sure you were just having Braxton-Hicks contractions; false labor.”

He sighed in relief; in his panic, he’d forgotten about those.

“Just take it easy for a bit and you’ll be fine,” Snow assured him.

“Aye, milady, I will; thank you,” he replied in a tired voice.

Emma must have wrested the phone from her mother, because she spoke next. “Killian? You okay?”

“I think so, love.”

“I know; those are scary. Henry freaked me out with them so many times. I didn’t even know I was actually having him until my water broke.” He swallowed; he loved Emma, but her bedside manner could use some improvement. “Sorry; that probably wasn’t very comforting.”

“Not really, no.”

“Just relax and you’ll be fine; I promise. Think you can do that?”

“I’ll try.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Neal dashed off then, wanting to talk to his mom for a moment, so Killian leaned back on the stairs as much as he could, propping himself up with his now-free hand and cradling his belly with his hooked arm. Thankfully, his daughter seemed unperturbed by what had just happened; he wished he could say the same.

“Hey, Killian?” David was in front of him. “Is it cool if I put this guy down for a nap in your cabin?” He had Neal in his arms now, who was resting his head on his father’s shoulder. It was unbelievably precious and immediately brought a tear to Killian’s eye; goodness, he was getting tired of those moodswings.

“Of course it is. Captain’s quarters for the guest of honor,” he managed to get out without sounding too maudlin.

“Cool, thanks. I’ll be back up in a bit.”

Killian watched as they disappeared below deck, knowing that someday in the not-too-distant future, that would be him with his little lass. He truly couldn’t wait for it, but how would he know what to do? Had they rushed into this?

It took some struggle, but he was able to heft himself to his feet, and waddle—yes, he waddled now—over to the railing to gaze out over the water. He could really use its calming effect about now.

As captain, he was used to being the one in command and always having control of a situation, or at least being able to think fast to handle whatever came at him. But with this pregnancy and this child, he was constantly at the disadvantage and unable to predict what would come. Not only was it personally upsetting, but how was he supposed to protect his child like that?

The ship creaked as David came back on deck and walked over to Killian. “So, how about you tell me how you really feel, because I can tell you were lying to Emma.”

Killian sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

David turned around and leaned against the edge of the railing, causing some paternal instinct in Killian to shout a warning about being careful, but he bit his tongue.

“I may not have been exactly in your shoes, but I’ve done the expectant father thing twice now,” David lectured. “I can tell you’re worried. And I can also tell you that you shouldn’t be.”

“How can I not be, Dave?” Killian blurted out. “I didn’t even know what was going on just now, and given my history, I’m not sure I ever will. And I see you, and you make it look so easy. How the bloody hell am I supposed to raise a child from infancy, when I’ve no clue what to do?” He could feel a tear running down his cheek from his outburst, but the wave of worries within him was cresting and crashing and Dave was unfortunately the one there for it.

Dave hardly reacted to it, though. “You know what I’m gonna tell you, right?”

“That I’m being irrational,” he muttered, wiping his cheeks.

“No!” David sounded almost offended at that. “For one, if I make it look easy, it’s only because I’ve had a bit of practice. But you were there before Neal was born—you remember how I had to physically fight my insecurities.” Killian nodded. “The thing is, the fight never ends; you’re always going to wonder if you’re doing the right thing. And all you can do is keep trying, and giving it your all.”

“But what if I do something wrong?” Killian asked in a watery voice.

“You will. We all do. But you learn from it and move forward. No one is perfect, but the best parents are the ones that never give up. And, for the record—” David placed a comforting hand on Killian’s shoulder—“I’ve watched you with Henry, and Neal, and Gideon, and I’ve gotta say: you’re gonna be amazing.”

Killian sniffed—it was supposed to be a snort of derision, but his lingering tears ruined the effect. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Come on, you know I’m a terrible liar,” David told him, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re going to be overwhelmed and terrified and elated, all at the same time. And you know what?”

“What?”

“You’ve got someone at your side who will be going through all of that, too. And you guys will be just fine.”

Killian could feel his eyes brimming with tears again, and did all he could to blink them back, but he knew it was a losing battle.

“What? What did I say wrong?” Dave asked, worried.

“Nothing; you said everything right,” Killian answered, choking back a sob. “I’m just still not used to people believing in me; it means more than I can tell you.”

David just smiled and opened his arms. “Come here, man.” And he held Killian as he wept for infinite reasons, some known, some unknown, made all the more awkward with the bump between them, but in the end, Killian felt better than he had in weeks.

“Thanks, mate,” he said softly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. “Oh, and sorry,” he quickly added, and wiped the remnants of his blubbering off David’s jacket.

“Hey, if it helped, then it’s the least I can do. But maybe tell my granddaughter to calm down with the kicking?” he teased. She’d been quite active while Killian let it all out, mostly toward David.

“Don’t act as though you didn’t enjoy it, mate,” Killian threw back with a wink as he slowly climbed back to the helm. “I think it means she likes you.”

“How could she not?”

They shared another laugh as they got ready to take the ship back to the docks. Killian was still nervous about everything, but at least now he knew he wasn’t the only one in that boat, both literally and figuratively.

* * *

“Uncle Killy, she’s hitting me!”

Killian could only chuckle at Gideon’s exclamation. “Is she, now?” It was true—his daughter was kicking up a storm as he tried to read to Gideon at the library. Gideon was making do with what little of Killian’s lap was left, which, at 36 weeks, wasn’t much. “You know, that’s her way of saying ‘hi!’”

“Yeah?” The boy looked up at him in wonder, his brown eyes wide.

“Mhmm. Here.” He took Gideon’s chubby little hands and placed them on his belly, right where she was moving around. “Feel that?”

“Yeah!” Gideon shouted, pressing his hands back against her, only for her to kick back. His tiny giggles and their interaction were possibly the most precious thing Killian had ever seen, and he couldn’t wait for Gideon to meet his “cousin” when she was outside in a few weeks.

Eventually, they got back to reading, which meant that eventually, Gideon fell asleep. He lifted the dreaming lad up with his left arm to prop him against his shoulder, leaving his hand free to track his daughter’s movements within.

It was probably a premature thought, but Killian could almost envision being in this position again someday, but with his daughter in his arms and a new little one on the way. He shook his head—he was getting far ahead of himself. And it didn’t help that he was projecting his daughter on every small one in town, wondering if she would be like one of them, or more likely, none of them.

Much like that day all those months ago, Belle brought him a cup of tea and settled into the chair next to him.

“Oh, do you want me to take him? That can’t be comfortable,” she said, starting to reach for Gideon, but he waved her off.

“He’s fine, love. Best not to disturb him.”

“Only if you insist.” She relaxed back in her seat. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, other than the constant sensation that someone has strapped a large melon to my gut.”

“Oh come on; it can’t possibly feel like that.”

“You’re right. It’s heavier, and moves around far too much,” he retorted with a wink.

She laughed a bit, but there was something wistful in her eyes and small smile. “I do still wish I’d been able to experience all that normally.”

“Are you sure? Even after seeing how fat I’ve gotten?” he jested, patting his belly. In addition to larger jeans, Emma had also bought him a size larger in tshirts but even those were straining now. He knew he wasn’t truly as big as he thought he was, but he certainly wasn’t small anymore.

“Oh, hush! You look fantastic,” she assured him. “And yes. I’m thrilled that we got a second chance to raise him, but I still feel like I missed out on these moments—watching him grow and feeling him move on the inside.”

“I know, love.” What happened with Belle’s pregnancy had been at the back of his mind the last several months, and he was eternally grateful that no villain had set their designs on the product of his and Emma’s True Love; but he wished his friend had been spared that. “Do you ever think you might try it again?”

“No, we’re happy with one. Actually,” she started, suddenly looking unsure. “That reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What is it?”

She wrung her hands a bit before speaking again. “Well, when Gideon gets a bit bigger—maybe in a year or so—we’ve decided that we’d like to travel, and finally see the realms.”

His initial reaction was a pang to the heart—his best friend was leaving? But all she had ever wanted was to see the worlds; how could he not be thrilled for her that she’d finally have that chance? “That sounds spectacular, my dear. You’ll finally get what you’ve always dreamed of.” (His voice may have been a bit watery.)

She grinned back. “But, that leads me to my next question. You don’t have to answer now, and I don’t want you to feel obligated, but...would you consider taking over here when I leave?”

His jaw dropped—she was asking him to run the library? This place was like a child to her, and she tended to it almost as much as she did Gideon. And she wanted to entrust it to him?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she said quickly, filling the silence that had hung over them with his lack of answer. “I know you like working at the station with Emma and everything, but—”

“Belle, I’d love to,” he interrupted. “I’m...I’m actually honored that you’d even consider me to replace you. Not that I ever could, of course, but I’d gladly try to maintain what you’ve started.”

“I know you would; that’s why I asked.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “But you’ve got plenty of time to think it over and talk with Emma. For now, you just focus on bringing that sweet little girl into the world.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he replied with a smile.

They sat in silence for a bit after that, not because they had nothing else to say, but more to just enjoy this moment of peace together before taking the next steps in their respective adventures.

* * *

Killian was quite ready to take that step, too, and only got more eager as his due date drew near.

“Aren’t you ready to come out yet, little love?” he asked the child in his belly as he lounged on their sofa. “It feels like you’ve been in there for ages.”

Truly, it had only been 39 weeks, but in some ways, it felt like an eternity. Or maybe it just felt like that because he’d been bored out of his mind while on paternity leave this past week. He’d certainly lived through his fair share of cabin fever, but it was much more difficult when he had to rush to use the facilities every hour, usually when he’d finally gotten comfortable or was right in the middle of whatever task he’d found to accomplish. Or was constantly starving even though he was already the size of a whale. Or when he didn’t have rum as a distraction.

He laughed at himself to think of that hot day over the summer when he thought things had reached their peak. He’d only just lost visibility of his feet then; now, he could barely remember what they looked like. When he tried to lay down, his belly practically towered over him, which made for a good bookrest—until his lovely daughter decided to kick it over. And it wasn’t like laying down was comfortable for long, anyway.

So here he was, attempting to rest and watch television in their sitting room, feet propped on the coffee table (no, he still couldn’t see them around the mass of his abdomen), a snack in hand, and going absolutely stir crazy.

A knock sounded on the door. Thank the gods, he wasn’t alone. He paused the program he was watching, shifted to sitting and set his food down, and hoisted himself up to his feet…just in time for Snow to let herself in, arms laden with bags.

“Oh, Killian, you didn’t have to get up! Sit, relax; I’m just gonna—“

“No, let me help,” he offered as casually as he could muster.

“No! Get off your feet; I’m sure you—“

“Snow, I love you, and I’m telling you: please give me something to do,” he cut her off, exasperation coming through in his tone.

“Oh! Um, sure, then...here, take these.” She seemed taken aback at his minor outburst, but handed him a few bags nonetheless. “I just thought I’d bring over some frozen food and a few last-minute baby things.”

“Thank you, milady,” he effused, trying to make up for scaring her as he followed her into the kitchen. “And I apologize for my temper.”

She set her bags down on the dining table and waved him off. “You’re fine; I remember my emotions being all over in those last days. At least you don’t have the added stress of a wicked witch after your baby,” she quipped as she started putting dishes in the freezer.

He leaned against one of the counters and sighed, rubbing his sore sides. “Think Zelena would give it a go if I called her up?”

Snow slammed the door shut so hard the fridge shook. “Killian!! Seriously?” It had been years since he’d been on the receiving end of a glare that menacing from her.

“Don’t worry; I jest,” he assured her, waving his hand. “I’m just…” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m so bloody bored.”

“Well, there’s gotta be something for you to do around here,” Snow commented. “I would have loved some extra time before Neal to get settled.”

“That’s the thing, though—there isn’t,” he huffed. “I’ve reorganized the baby’s bookshelf twice and her closet four times; I’ve dusted thrice, but Swan put a magic lock on the vacuum cleaner; and I can’t get comfortable enough for anything else because this lass won’t stop kicking me and I’m constantly starved. And that medicinal gelatin has been no help whatsoever but I can’t stop craving it.”

Snow tilted her head. “Medicinal what now?”

“The stuff in the fridge in the small cups.”

Wearing a curious look, Snow pulled the fridge open, glanced around, and then started laughing. “Jello?”

“Aye; same as what they serve in the hospital.”

“Oh, Killian,” she said, chuckling. “There’s nothing medicinal about Jello. It just tastes good and has sugar and is easy to eat when you’re sick.”

“Oh, bloody—“ He had to cut himself off before he cursed in front of his mother-in-law, and settled with a long sigh.

“Come here,” she said, walking towards him with open arms and pulling him in for a hug, which he gladly reciprocated. “Oh! Is she always this active?” Because, of course, the little lass had promptly began to kick her grandmother.

“Always,” he practically groaned.

“You’re almost there,” she replied. “And with all you’ve been through, this will be nothing for you to handle. And then you’ll get to hold this sweet little baby, who is kicking me in the ribs.”

“I know the feeling,” he threw back, pulling away and breaking the embrace. “It just seems like she’s never going to come.”

“She’ll come when she’s ready. You’re taking awfully good care of her right now, so I understand why she might be waiting,” Snow teased. “Don’t lose hope!”

“I haven’t,” he answered, chuckling. “I’m definitely reigning in my expectations, though.”

“If it helps, just think of that day a few weeks from now when you’ll be all settled at home, with her in one arm and Emma in the other.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine; the idea was never far from his thoughts. “It’s all I've been dreaming of,” he agreed, a bit teary.

“Don’t you dare cry, Killian Jones; because then I will, too.”

He sniffed. “I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”

While she continued to put food away, he busied himself with the tea kettle, and they settled down for an afternoon chat over Jello and chamomile. Her comparison of giving birth in the Enchanted Forest versus this realm had him quite glad for modern medicine, even if his situation was somewhat outside its scope. Truthfully, he hadn’t had too many one-on-one moments with Snow, so it was nice to have an easy conversation with her.

They got so lost in discussion that they both jumped when the alarm on her phone went off. “Oh, shoot; I’m supposed to meet Regina. Sorry; looks like I have to dash off!”

“No worries, milady; let me see you out.” He hauled himself to his feet, grateful for their sturdy table as he used it to support him, and waddled after her down the hall.

“Oh, I almost forgot—here, there’s a few outfits in there, and some blankets and washcloths,” she said as she handed him one last bag. “I just saw them and I couldn’t resist.”

He peeked into the sack, catching a glimpse of a few pink onesies covered in unicorns, hearts, and one emblazoned with “Little Princess”. “They’re perfect,” he whispered, then let the bag dangle on his hook as his hand jumped to his belly, where it felt like the baby had punched him. “And I think she agrees,” he added, wincing.

Snow gave him an understanding smile and squeezed his arm. “You’ve got this, okay? Have hope. You’ve made it this far; just a bit more to go.”

He nodded in agreement, they hugged one last time, and she let herself out while he began the trek up the stairs. It had only become a chore in the last week or so, now that his belly had dropped, but wearing the belly band that Snow had given him ages ago helped...some.

By the time he got upstairs, he needed to use the restroom again, but then he made his way into the nursery and went about finding a home for the new things. The room couldn’t be more ready for its incoming occupant: the crib was furnished, the changing table was outfitted, the closet was full, and the unicorn mobile that should have been Emma’s was hanging, swaying gently with moving air currents.

Once he’d put the clothes in with all the others (arranged by size, and then by color, and he was considering adding another filter in there but wasn’t quite sure which yet), he took a seat on the gliding rocking chair Regina had gifted them and propped his feet on the matching stool.

“Please come out soon, my little darling, our magic bean,” he said softly, caressing his stomach and feeling all her little movements. “We cannot wait to meet you.”

* * *

_A/N: Belly update! There might be a manip coming later today or tomorrow, as well ;) Thank you all for reading! One more chapter after this!_

 


	7. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a bit more waiting, and lots of being uncomfortable, but finally, Killian goes into labor.

There she was: perfect and warm and safe in his arms, right where she should be. He held his wriggling baby girl against his stomach, so thrilled to finally see her precious face, hear her little coos, and finally give her a name—wait, what was it though?

“Killian?” a soft voice whispered.

No, that wasn’t her name; that was his name.

“Hey, Killian,” the voice said again, lovingly.

“Bugger off,” he told it. “That’s not her name.” But why couldn’t he remember it?

Gentle hands brushed his hair off his forehead, and slowly, he awoke. Alas, he’d only been dreaming the babe had arrived, when in fact, she was still nudging against his palm from within.

He blearily blinked his eyes, and finally opened them to see Emma standing over him with a soft smile. A glance around at the setting told him that he’d fallen asleep in the nursery when he sat down after Snow’s visit.

“Did you have a good nap?” Emma asked quietly, slightly teasing. “Were you dreaming about her?”

“Aye. She was perfect,” he sighed, caressing his bump.

“And her name wasn’t Killian?”

“No, it was not,” he insisted, chuckling.

“It’s not a bad name,” Emma mused.

“Contrary to popular belief, I am not so conceited as to give my child my own name. Perhaps, though, if she’s as stubborn as she seems to be, we should consider the name Emma.”

“Hey!” his wife protested, playfully smacking his shoulder, which prompted him to feign injury—until their daughter gave a swift kick to his side, as if telling them to knock it off, or perhaps that she didn’t approve of the name. Truthfully, they had a list, but were waiting until her arrival to decide what seemed best.

Emma’s hand joined his on his swollen stomach. “It’s hard to believe she’s almost here; it feels like just yesterday we were staring at the positive tests.”

He arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “Maybe to you,” he scoffed.

“I know, I know.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss against his temple. “But you’ve handled everything so well, and I know you will for whatever’s to come.” She turned his head to face her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Emma,” he replied, voice thick with emotion.

She placed a kiss on his lips and then pulled back slightly, resting her forehead on his. “Just a few more days; you can do it.”

“I sure hope so,” he sighed. “But I’ll do whatever it takes for her.”

Later that night, in bed, they cuddled as close as they could, both with hands resting atop his belly, soaking in what they could of each other before their lives changed—and eager for that moment to arrive.

* * *

A few days later, Killian’s due date arrived. And then it went.

A few days after that came Emma’s birthday. That went by without event as well.

It had now been almost 41 bloody weeks that this babe had been inside Killian, and he was finally nearing the end of his patience. Everything hurt, nothing was comfortable, and all he wanted to do was sleep and eat and repeat.

Henry’s prediction from months ago was finally true: he was too huge to move—or at least, it certainly felt that way. He figured at some point that the babe would run out of room inside him, but as Whale had explained at their last appointment, his larger frame meant she had more space to fill before she’d reach maximum capacity. Lovely.

That combined with the low position of his belly on his hips meant even walking was a chore, but that certainly hadn’t stopped him from doing it as much as he could—if it would induce labor, he’d try it.

But so far, their daily trips to the diner—where he put as much hot sauce and jalapenos as he could handle on everything (and Granny, bless her heart, was doing all she could to help)—had done absolutely nothing to coax the little lass out.

And neither had their evening activities. Despite his being close in size to their home, he and Emma still managed to have some semblance of a sex life, given that hormones were truly all over the place now. As pleasurable as it was, and a brief respite from the aches and pains he felt at all other times, it didn’t bring about any change on the baby front.

Every day, Emma told him, “Just one more; you can do it. I’m sure she’ll be here tomorrow.” But every day that it didn’t happen, his frustration mounted.

One sleepless night, he managed to roll himself out of bed and somehow shuffle down to the kitchen without waking anyone (though Henry had taken to sleeping at Regina’s, just in case). He dumped some Jello in a bowl and then covered it with chocolate syrup, which honestly wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d eaten in the last several months.

He promptly devoured it, with an extra helping of syrup—and then realized he had to get back upstairs somehow. Just the thought of that trek was exhausting, especially when his daughter apparently loved that snack and was making her joy known by moving everything at once.

Bloody hell, could he not get a break? He was tired and sore and just so completely done. He leaned back against the counter and slid down to the floor, landing with a plop. Holding his massive belly, he tried to massage it—to calm her or to soothe himself, he wasn’t sure—but it wasn’t effective.

“Please, love,” he whispered, tears welling. “Please be kind to your papa and come out. We’re so ready for you, and so many people already love you, and there’s a whole wide world for you to explore. Come on, my darling.”

He wasn’t sure how long he was down there, murmuring and wiping his tears, but eventually, he heard a creak on the stairs.

“Killian?” Emma called out sleepily as she padded in, blinking her eyes. “Oh, Killian!” Her tone changed when she saw him seated on the floor, and she rushed to his side. “Are you okay? Is she coming?”

“No,” he nearly sobbed. “I’m going to be pregnant forever.”

Emma bit her lip, he knew to keep in laughter, but he didn’t care that he was being melodramatic. He didn’t care about anything but getting this child out.

“Don’t worry; that won’t happen,” she assured him once she regained control of her emotions. “I have a good feeling about what Dr. Whale will tell us today. She’s going to come any minute, I swear.”

“I hope so,” he sighed, leaning into her as she rubbed his aching back.

“Come on; let’s get back to bed,” she said softly. He just groaned. “What?”

“The bloody stairs,” he complained.

Now she let out a chuckle, and the familiar warmth of her magic swirled around them. The next moment, they were in their room, on the bed.

“Relax, hon,” Emma whispered, wrapping her arms around him as much as she could. “We’ve got this.”

Well, he certainly couldn’t argue with that, or the soothing magic of her palm caressing his overgrown bump, and somehow fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

Whale didn’t have the best news for them, but almost. After examining both of them, he said, “Well, there are still no signs of labor starting, but based on her position, it could happen any minute. But if it doesn’t happen on its own, let’s schedule an induction for two days from now.”

“Will that work with the spell?” Emma asked.

“It should, but we can call up Regina if we run into any issues. Honestly, I thought she’d be here by now. I think you’re too good at being pregnant, Hook.”

Killian just sighed and massaged his belly. “Your bedside manner is as lacking as ever, Whale.”

“Hey, just calling it like I see it. I’ll see ya in a couple days, if not sooner.”

Despite Whale’s remarks, Killian did feel a weight lift. There was an end in sight, finally. Emma helped him off the exam table and they headed out to Granny’s, fielding many well-wishes on the way. Before he tackled the small challenge of the stairs into to diner, Emma squeezed his hand in hers.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Two days. Not even two days until we get to meet her.” She was almost squealing in glee, and it was hard to hold onto any negative feelings when she was giving him a child-like grin.

“Aye, love; we’re so close.” He swallowed, then added, “Thank you, Emma, for dealing with and helping me these past months. I know I was difficult, but I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Killian, you’re the one who was willing to submit yourself to all this crap. How could I do anything else?”

“Oh, Swan,” he murmured, pulling her into a side embrace (because it was the only way they could get close). “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too...Daddy.”

“Are you seriously going to make me cry before we go in?”

“Sorry.”

“Too late, Mum.”

“Dammit, Killian; now I am, too.”

They managed to hold it in, and took a seat at what had become their usual table, seeing as Killian no longer comfortably fit in a booth.

Granny already had their food ready. “One omelette with jalapeños and onions,” she said as she set it in front of Killian. “What did the doctor say?”

“Inducing in two days, if she doesn’t come before then,” he answered.

“Hmm. I don’t know what it is, but something feels different today. I bet you’re back at the hospital before this evening.”

“I sure hope so.”

After breakfast, they walked to the station so Emma could take care of some last-minute things and get David what he’d need to run things while they were on leave. “Do you want to hang out with me or should I poof you home?” she offered when they got there.

“Actually, I think I’ll head to the Roger, just to check on some things; make sure she’s gonna be okay without me.”

“Okay. Call if anything happens.”

“Of course.”

They parted with a kiss and he began the short but arduous walk to the docks, trying to ignore the pain low in his back that had started during breakfast; damn Granny’s cheap chairs. He braced hand and hook against it as he strode up the ramp to the ship, faintly aware of the breeze on the exposed bit of his belly from where his shirt was trying (and failing) to cover his mass, but at least his jeans still fit.

Slowly—because that was his only speed—he worked his way around the ship, checking lines, clearing what debris he could, and making a mental list of things to repair. It somehow took the better part of the morning, but when he was done, he leaned back against the wheel and stared out over the ocean. The next time he’d be here, the little one that he currently had his arms wrapped around would be within them.

She seemed to like that idea, too, and gave a strong kick. Wait, no—this was stronger than a kick; this was a clench, and it wasn’t letting up. This was like the last time he was out on the ship. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t comfortable, and it was nearly a minute before it let up.

Did that mean… “Little lass, are you finally going to grace us with your presence?” he asked his belly. As if in reply, she gave a light kick. But he still had the distinct memory of false labor, and didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Remembering how they stopped when he sat down, he did just that, sitting on the deck and leaning against the helm. As he watched the clouds roll by overhead, he waited for another sign.

Minutes passed without anything, so he figured it was just another Braxton-Hicks. Right when he was about to give up, though, he felt his stomach harden under his palm, and that same squeezing sensation took hold.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured to himself once it was done. “Looks like Granny was right.”

He knew from their birth classes that it could still be hours before they had to go to the hospital, but he wanted to make sure, so he called Emma.

“What is it?” she answered in a panicked voice.

“Hello to you, too, love,” he quipped. “Am I not allowed to call the mother of my child whenever I want?”

“No—I mean, you are, but,” she stuttered, making him chuckle. “I just thought maybe something had happened.”

“Well…” he started. “Would you mind checking to see if anything on your end has changed?”

“Uh, yeah; just give me a minute.” He could hear her walking over the tiled floor of the station, then the shuffle of her clothes in the restroom. “Umm...woah. That feels weird. Yeah, I’m missing some parts. Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Well, if the contractions I’ve had mean anything, I’d wager so.”

“Oh my god! OH MY GOD!” she screamed. “Do you need me to come get you? Are you safe? Are you in pain? Should I call my dad? KILLIAN!!”

“Love, calm down; I’m fine for now. They’re still 10 minutes apart or so, and it’s a nice day so I’m still on the ship. We’ve got time. I just wanted to check in with you.”

“Okay,” she said, but she was clearly still worried. “How are you so calm?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe I’m just so relieved that the panic hasn’t set in yet.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Okay, well, I’ll try to hurry up and finish here, but I’m still sending my dad over. Call me if anything changes.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

For a while then, it was just him, his thoughts, and the crisp autumn breeze. He kept an eye on his phone to time between contractions, but mostly just tried to stay calm. He wasn’t that worried about birth—he knew plenty about pain, and if all the women he knew could do it, the he certainly could, too—but he was simply eager to meet his daughter. He wondered who she’d look like, if she’d have hair and what color, would she come into the world screaming or peacefully. And he’d know in only a manner of hours.

Dave pulled up in a squad car an hour or so later, right as a contraction hit—and they were getting closer together, perhaps a bit more rapidly than he’d expected. When it passed, Dave was standing over him.

“So I hear you’re having a baby?” he asked casually, winking.

“That’s what they tell me. I thought I’d just put on a bit of weight,” Killian joked back, patting his globe of a stomach.

“A bit?”

“Or, you know, a lot.” Truthfully, he’d put on a bit more than average, but given how trim he was to start, Whale said it was normal.

“Are you ready for this?” Dave asked, his nervousness coming out.

“As much as I’ll ever be.”

David swallowed. “What would you think if I said I was a little envious?”

“I’d say you’re absolutely mad,” he chuckled, “and that you should definitely consider it.”

David just laughed. “Seriously?”

“Aye,” Killian responded confidently, surprising even himself. “For all the aches and pains, and despite all my complaints, it’s been an incredible experience, seeing and feeling her grow within me. I can’t say I’d have wished for it any other way.”

Another contraction started right as he finished, likely reversing his positive sell of pregnancy to David. His mate quickly knelt with him, though, gave him his hand to squeeze through the pain, and coached his breathing.

“That great, huh?” David teased once it was done.

Killian caught his breath before replying, “My previous statement still stands. Though it might not hurt to ask for an update tomorrow.”

They sat for a bit as Killian recovered, and a couple minutes later, he had Dave assist him to standing. It wasn’t hard for David to help him up, but as soon as he was upright, he felt an odd popping feeling low in his pelvis—lower even than the baby—followed by the strangest sensation of liquid moving through him and wetting his jeans.

He must have been holding too tight to David, because his father-in-law asked, “Killian? What is it?”

“I...I think my water just broke.”

“Oh fuck,” David cursed, fear washing over his face. “To the hospital?”

“Y-yeah,” Killian stuttered.

As quick as was possible, he and David made their way off the ship and to the waiting vehicle. Once he was seated and settled, he pulled out his phone to let Emma know what was going on.

“Did your water break?”

“Hello again, love. You really must work on your phone etiquette. And yes.”

“Omigodomigod. Where are you?”

“Your father is taking me to the hospital; we’re just heading off—oy, mate, is that really necessary?” He had to interrupt his conversation with Emma to scold Dave, who’d switched on the sirens and was beginning to accelerate through town.

“You’re having my granddaughter! Of course it’s necessary!”

He sighed in exasperation before telling Emma, “Well, meet us there, because apparently we’ll be making record time.”

“I’m locking up now,” Emma said, somewhat muffled; he could easily picture her squeezing the phone between her cheek and shoulder.

“Alright. See you soon.”

“Yup. Bye.”

One more contraction hit on the way, ending just as they pulled up. David jumped out and ran to grab a wheelchair, but Killian waved him off. “Let me walk while I’m still able, mate.”

Technically, he’d arrived a bit early, but it wasn’t like anyone else was having a baby, and there was some concern at how close the contractions were becoming, so they admitted him. He’d just been settled in a room when Emma arrived—along with yet another contraction, and they were getting stronger. Both she and David hovered over him until it was over.

Once it was done, David turned to Emma. “Think you’ve got this?”

“Yes, Dad; it’s not like I haven’t gone through them, too.”

“I know, just...take care of him. Them,” he quickly corrected.

Emma seemed both amused and touched. “You know I will.”

Dave nodded, satisfied, then focused on Killian. “Good luck, man.”

“Thanks, Dave, and for all your assistance.” They exchanged a quick, awkward hug, and after receiving assurance that Emma would call him as soon as the baby arrived (“Of COURSE I will, Dad!”), he headed off, no doubt to spread the word through town.

Finally, it was just the two of them—and soon to be three of them. Emma stood in front of him, reaching for hand and hook and eyes drifting to the hospital gown-covered bump where there daughter was, but only for a bit longer. Then she looked up at him, smiling. “This is it.”

“Aye, finally.”

“You ready for this?”

“Which part, love?”

She thought for a second. “All of it,” she said with a shrug.

“As long as I’m with you, then absolutely.”

The next several hours passed with Emma being there to support his increasingly intense contractions, helping him wherever he needed to go, Snow briefly popping in to send her love (and then being there through the worst contraction yet), and intermittent exams to see how far they were from delivery.

It was completely dark outside, based on the view from his window, by the time contractions were about a minute apart. He’d given up on trying to stand through them an hour ago, and he was sore and exhausted. Perhaps he’d been a bit cocky when he thought labor would just be another thing to get through.

“How do you lasses do this?” he panted after his most recent one.

“The same way you are: by breathing, and with support from those you love,” Emma answered calmly, brushing his hair from his sweaty brow. “You’re doing great.”

“But, Swan,” he said quietly, “how did you do it?”

Of all the stories she’d shared with him over the course of his pregnancy, they’d never once discussed this. He didn’t want to put her on the spot, especially because he sensed this was what had scarred her the most, but he needed to know.

“I don’t really know,” she said in a small voice. “It wasn’t like the doctors or nurses were all that supportive. One or two would come in every now and then, out of pity, but they didn’t help much.” He squeezed her hand; imagining her going through this, so young and all alone, broke his heart. “Really, I think the only thing that kept me going was the hope that he’d have a better life than me. And thankfully, he did.”

He brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. He certainly hadn’t judged her fear of pregnancy before, but knowing the full story—and now, experiencing the process firsthand—he truly understood. “Thank you for telling me, love, and thank you for being here with me.”

“After what I went through, Hades himself couldn’t keep me from you right now.”

He replied with a smile, but it was cut off by another contraction, harder and longer than the last. “Bloody hell, aren’t we there yet?” he wondered, breathing hard, when it was over. But even with the break from the contraction, there was still intense pressure on his pelvis that would not go away.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Whale answered, striding in at the perfect moment and lifting the sheet covering Killian’s lower half. “Yup, looks like you’re fully dilated. Let’s get you moved to delivery.”

“You hear that?” Emma whispered, smiling. “Almost there.”

“Bloody hell,” he said again. It was almost over—their daughter was almost here. “We’re having a baby. For real.”

“Yeah,” Emma replied, chuckling. “Let’s go.”

Pushing was the most arduous experience of Killian’s life. There were times it felt like he wasn’t strong enough, or that maybe she was stuck, but everything was going smooth and Emma never left his side, encouraging him through all of it.

Finally, after 13 hours of labor and at 2 in the morning, Whale called out, “One last push, Hook; just one more!” Killian yelled as he did, and it seemed like the lights around them flickered, but finally, the pressure was gone, and he slumped against Emma.

The next thing he heard was a tiny cry. “Is that her?” he asked weakly.

Whale didn’t say anything; he simply brought the wriggling, messy babe up to Killian’s chest and laid her down. Killian instinctively placed his arms around her and gazed down at the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

She had been crying, but calmed almost instantly when she’d been placed on her father’s chest, and was now gazing up at him with wide eyes, her tiny mouth slightly parted. He quickly took stock of her ten fingers and ten toes, her graceful little limbs, and the bit of fuzz on her head. “She’s perfect,” he finally was able to say, practically sobbing. “Emma, look at her.”

“She is.” Emma’s voice was just as thick with emotion as his, and he looked up to see her beaming down at them with tears in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He reached up with his left wrist (having abandoned his brace and hook hours ago) and brought her down to him, kissing her with all the fierceness he could muster.

And then he looked back down at the product of their True Love, lying peacefully in his arms. He decided this must be what happily ever after looks like.

* * *

Later that day, long after everyone had been cleaned up and sorted out, and Killian had taken a good, long nap, the family arrived to meet its newest addition—all 8 pounds, 10 ounces, 20 inches of her.

Henry had beamed down at his new little sister, promising to tell her every single story that predated her.

Belle proclaimed her to be “absolutely precious,” and Gideon was fairly impressed, but mostly excited that Killian’s lap was open again

Snow and David cried, to no one’s surprise, and passed her between the two of them for nearly an hour (during which Killian snuck another nap). At one point, while David was holding her, he finally took his eyes off her to look up at Killian. “Can I ask for an update to our earlier conversation?”

Killian laughed a bit, though not too much due to his lingering overall soreness, especially in the abdomen. “It was bloody agonizing. And I’d gladly do it again for her.”

Dave nodded and grinned, making Killian wonder what his in-laws’ future held.

Regina was the last to arrive, but she was just as taken with the tiny princess. “Oh, she’s gorgeous,” she cooed at the sleeping babe, a softness taking over her features that Killian had never seen. But it wasn’t hard to imagine her doing that with Henry. “And how are you feeling, Daddy?” she asked Killian.

He had to take a moment to swallow his emotion; he still hadn’t wrapped his head around his new title. “Quite sore at the moment, but better than earlier,” he finally answered.

“I think I can help with that,” Regina replied, and came closer. With the baby in one arm and the other outstretched, he watched as a warm, glowing light emitted from her palm over his midsection, and he immediately began feeling renewed. “It doesn’t completely heal things right away, but it definitely speeds the process down to a couple weeks.”

“Oh, good,” Emma gushed in a knowing voice. (“Lucky!” he heard Snow mutter across the room.)

“Thank you, Regina,” he said, “And thank you for helping make this happen in the first place.”

“Hey, what I did was easy; you did all the work. And it was my complete pleasure, especially when seeing the final product,” she added, staring back down at the little one.

She passed the baby back to Emma just as Snow asked, “So, have you decided on a name, or are you waiting for a naming ceremony?”

“Uh, well,” she started, turning to Killian and with a glance, asking if he’d make the announcement.

“Yes, we do plan on announcing it publically, but...we’d like to tell all of you right now.” He looked up at Emma; she nodded, and then moved the little lass into his arms. “It’s my honor to introduce you all to Hope Swan-Jones.”

A collective happy sigh, bordering on an “awww,” came from everyone, and Snow declared it “perfect; just perfect.”

Despite all life had thrown at them, the one thing Emma and Killian had never given up on was hope, and they couldn’t come up with a more apt name for their daughter.

\-----------

A month or so later, they were settling in at home—as much as things can be settled with a month-old baby. Their house was in more disarray than it had ever been, they were constantly exhausted, and they had never been happier.

On an afternoon when Hope was particularly averse to being put down, Killian sat next to Emma on the sofa, folding laundry while she nursed. From an anatomical standpoint, things had gone back to normal, much quicker than normal thanks to Regina’s magic. But Killian highly doubted his midsection would ever look the same, nor Emma’s breasts, and neither of them cared much; small sacrifices to make in order to have a healthy daughter.

When he was done folding the seemingly immense number of onesies they’d gone through in the past few days, he leaned back and gazed on his girls.

Emma had been focusing on nursing, but she must have felt Killian’s eyes on her; without looking away from her daughter, she asked, “What are you staring at?”

“The two most amazing, incredible, beautiful women I’ve ever come across.”

Her attention never left Hope, but he could see a smile form on her lips and a blush rise on her cheeks. Part of Killian longed to ravish her; the other part just wanted to hold her in his arms as they slept through the night.

He scooted a bit closer to her as Hope finished, then Emma passed the baby off to Killian for burping and some skin-to-skin time, and most likely for Hope to fall asleep on him, as she sorted herself out. Just a few minutes later, the baby was passed out, snoring lightly against her father’s chest in the opening of his plaid shirt, and Emma had tucked herself into Killian’s side, watching their little love. It was a rare moment of peace and quiet, and Emma sighed happily to herself.

“What was that for?” he enquired, oh so softly.

“Nothing. Just...thank you.”

He gave the tiniest scoff he could imagine; he’d heard that no less than twice a day since they’d come home. “I’ve told you, Emma—you needn’t thank me, or feel indebted. We’re a partnership. It was my pleasure.”

“I know, but I appreciate it more and more each day. It’s only been a few weeks, and I already can’t imagine life without her.”

“Aye; me too.”

After another moment of silence, Emma observed, “You know, we make some pretty cute babies.”

“That we do,” he chuckled softly.

“Do you feel like making any more?”

He looked at her, wide-eyed, his memories of labor still fresh. She was smiling innocently back at him. He countered, “Let’s table that discussion until this one is quite a bit older, shall we?”

“Sounds good,” she agreed with a tiny giggle.

Perhaps they’d have more children some day, or maybe they wouldn’t; it made no matter to Killian at present. Just like Snow had said, here he was: settled at home with his daughter in one arm and Emma in the other.

He placed a kiss on Hope’s head, and then turned to do the same to Emma. He had everything he could ever want or need, right here.

* * *

_A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING! There’s just a short epilogue to come, which I’ll post tomorrow. Here’s the last belly update, and there might be a couple of manips coming on tumblr!_

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	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final look at Killian and his family a few years down the road.

“I thought you said this was easy?” Dave grumbled.

“When did I ever give that impression?” Killian threw back.

Killian had joined David on one of the rocking chairs on the back porch of the farmhouse. In the field ahead of them, Neal was playing with little Hope, now three and a half years old—and very insistent you not forget that extra half. Raising her had thus far been a tiring, yet completely rewarding experience, and almost a year ago, he and Emma had decided they wanted to give parenthood another try. After some debate, they decided Killian would carry their babe again.

But, much to their surprise, when they announced their plans to Snow and David, Emma’s parents said they wanted to do the same. So they had Regina brew a double batch of the potion, and a few months later, it was revealed that both David and Killian were expecting, due within a couple weeks of each other.

(The day Emma had walked in on them both crying and hugging on the couch at the station, with positive pregnancy tests in front of them, was one of her more treasured memories.)

The men had quickly placed several bets, almost turning it into a competition: who would show first, who could hold onto their normal clothes the longest, strangest craving, whose belly would be the biggest at the end—things like that.

So Killian didn’t think much of it when he started showing sooner this time around; his abdomen had never quite recovered from having Hope, and it was standard that a second pregnancy would show earlier—also, it meant he won the bet. But when David started showing around the same time, some eyebrows were raised and some ultrasounds were scheduled.

It turned out that they were both expecting twins—a side effect of doubling the potion. Regina had apologized profusely for mistranslating the spell, but both couples found they were ready for the challenge.

And a challenge it was. If Killian was struggling to keep up the craziness of expecting two children, after having already been through it with one, then David was certainly in over his head. But they were constantly supporting and encouraging each other through the entirety of it, giving each other tips as their bellies expanded and palates changed. 

And thankfully, with the unification of the realms, it meant that Killian’s other self was able to fill in at the station when Emma was needed at the farm, and his daughter Alice had already filled the position of Killian’s assistant at the library and was doing brilliantly. Lucy had also made herself available as a babysitter, with some assistance from her parents; it was strange, seeing Henry all grown up with a family of his own when it had only been a couple years since he’d first left, but it wasn’t like time truly had much of an effect on them.

So here David and Killian were, larger than they’d ever been, bellies protruding proudly out in front of them at 34 and 32 weeks, respectively. Whale didn’t expect either of them to go to full term, which meant their babies were likely going to sneak up on them. Snow and Emma were working on the nursery in the farmhouse while the men watched the kids, and next week, they’d be doing the same with Hope’s old nursery.

Killian wanted to help, but the extra baby was truly weighing him down. If he thought his child had been restless the first time around, it was worse with two, and sleep was hard to come by. His heart went out to David, that this was his first (and likely only) experience being with child, but for the most part, he seemed to be handling it well.

“It feels like they’re fighting in there!” Dave practically shouted, with one hand on either side of his large bump. Today, however, he was not handling things well. “Ugh, I just want a beer,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair dramatically.

Killian could only laugh. There were times it seemed like his children were doing the same, but for the most part just conducted a dual assault on his organs. His bladder was definitely eager for them to get out of there, but there was some novelty to it, Killian found, despite the constant ache in his back and ankles. 

“Trust me, mate; it’s all worth it in the end.”

“Better be,” his father-in-law grumbled.

Killian was about to assure him of it when Hope trudged up the steps to the porch, looking worn out. “What is it, my love?” he asked, sitting forward as much as he could with his stomach in the way; he about the same size now as when he finally went into labor with Hope, a week past her due date—and yet he still had weeks to go.

“Nothing, Daddy; just tired,” she answered, sounding it. “Can I come up?”

“Of course, little lass; just mind your siblings.” Carefully, Hope climbed up alongside him, in the space between him and the arm of the chair, and he held her tight to his left side while she tucked her head against his shoulder, like she had since she was a newborn. In minutes, she was fast asleep.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Dave pondered, watching them.

Actually, it was just like he had imagined one day while visiting with Belle, before she and her family had taken off on their realm-hopping adventure: his daughter in one arm, and his hand caressing the new little ones that still grew within him. It was awkward, maybe, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Not at all. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this and leaving comments!


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